


What Dreams May Come

by PanchitaRoyal



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Drama & Romance, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2019-10-03 18:54:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17289539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PanchitaRoyal/pseuds/PanchitaRoyal
Summary: Set two years after KoA. Dorian keeps having recurring nightmares of what could have happened if he didn't succeed in getting the third wyrd key in Morath and instead became enslaved to Meave. As these dreams intensify, Dorian finds himself unable to function and to live a productive life. Can Manon help him fight these nightmares? Or will they ultimately be the end of him? Please know this story has mature themes and content, and of course, I don’t own these characters and SJM is the queen of the word.





	1. Chapter 1

_Erawan sat on throne made of bones, the bones of his fallen friends, a black-spiked crown framing his golden-blonde hair, gold eyes gleaming with hate and rage. But it was not him whom Dorian eyed. No, his sapphire eyes fell on the white-haired witch at Erawan's feet. Manon wore a paneled dress which covered very little, exposing a plunging neckline and the side of her legs. There was a chained collar around her neck…not a Valg collar though, as Dorian would know if it were._

_There were black streaks down her cheek, as though she'd been crying dark kohl, and black bruises circled her wrists from when the Valk king shackled her._

_Their eyes met. The gold of her eyes muted, almost unrecognizable to Dorian. There was nothing of the witch-queen he once knew, Erawan made sure of that._

_Meave came around the corner then, her gown pooling at her feet as she snapped her finger to Dorian, calling his attention to her._

_"Come now, husband. Don't get distracted." Her voice was venom to his ears but he did as she asked. He always did as she asked, for the Valg queen controlled him. Just like the Valg king controlled Manon._

_"Sister." Erawan greeted Meave with a knowing smirk as his hand moved to Manon's shoulder before caressing from her neck to her cheek. Her lower lip trembled with fear, but the once proud wing-leader didn't move, didn't flinch. There would be consequences if she did._

_Meave motioned for him to kneel to the Valg king, which Dorian did immediately. Something tugged at him, though, something Dorian hadn't felt for a long time. His magic…it roiled, uncoiling from somewhere within him, especially as his sapphire eyes met golden ones. Muted as they were, they still drove away his demons…_

* * *

 

Dorian awoke to a sitting position, gulping down air and startling the woman who slept next to him. The blanket fell away from him to pool at his waist as he brought his hands to his head, gripping his hair as he struggled to compose himself.

He pushed the blanket aside as he brought his legs down from the bed, meaning to stand. Except warm arms wrapped around his torso, holding him and preventing him from standing. A naked chest pressed against his back before Manon buried her face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in deeply, steadily…

Dorian's heartbeat seemed to calm then and as he remembered who he was, where he was.

I am Dorian Havilliard II, King of Adarlan. I am home in Rifthold, in my room. I am not Meave's puppet. And Manon…

Dorian held on to Manon's hands around him, gripping her tightly against him. This was real. She was real.

"I'm sorry…" He breathed out between gulps of air. He must have frightened her, again. She didn't speak and simply held him until he could turn to face her, his hand coming up to caress her cheek.

"Thank you." He said simply, knowing there wasn't anything else he could say. This was probably the tenth time he'd woken up like this, and Manon's fourth time witnessing his nightmares. They were always the same…and yet different. It was as though the nightmare continued where it left off each time. The first nightmare had been the worst by far. When Dorian and Manon had seen each other in his dream, both enslaved to their new masters, they tried to fight, to get to one another…the consequences had been atrocious for both.

With a sigh, he laid back down on the bed, wrapping an arm around Manon as she settled over his shoulder, wrapping her own hand over his chest.

"Was it the same?" She finally asked after more minutes of silence, perhaps too startled to fall asleep right away.

"It continued where it left off the last time. But it was more of the same." He said as he ran his fingers through her moon-white hair, enjoying as the strands caressed his fingers.

"You must think me so weak, for being startled like this over a dream." Why couldn't he get over this? He was sure Manon would tire of it soon and stop visiting altogether. Manon shifted, her head coming up so she could stare at him property. Bright golden eyes found his as she arched a fine brow.

"I do not think you weak." She said with honesty, making Dorian smile despite the heaviness he still felt.

"What do you think of me, Manon?" He asked with a husky voice, and hoped she allowed him the distraction his question afforded. She paused, considering before finally speaking.

"I think you're a wise ruler, despite your young age. I think you're a brave man, who is not afraid of his feelings or caring for others. You're passionate about Adarlan and having it prosper…" She rested her chin on his chest as she spoke, her fingers drawing light circles there.

"You're a formidable lover." At this, Dorian barked a laugh, hefting his head so he could stare down at her property.

"Formidable? I'm an amazing lover." He countered, eyeing the witch-queen with amusement. She smirked just so, and Dorian grinned. It was as much as an admission as he was going to get.

"You're not so bad yourself, witchling." He earned himself a pinch on the side for that remark, and pretended it hurt with a loud ouch! He attacked her then, tickling her sides as he knew she hated until they were rolling around the large bed in a mess of naked limbs. They fought to get the upper hand, trying to grab one another's wrists so the other wouldn't strike them where they knew it'd hurt-tickle the most. By now, he knew all her tickle spots, and the witch hated laughing uncontrollably at his hands.

"No!" She whaled as he pinned her down, putting all of his weight over her as his hands crept up her sides, making her spasm with laughter.

"Stop! Please!" She managed to say between bouts of giggles as she tried but failed to push him away.

"I will stop only when you admit I am the best lover you've ever had." He let go of her hands just as phantom ones took over, pinning her in place so he could appreciate her, naked…panting hard as she tried not to laugh.

"You humans and your nonsense…" Manon could have spewed fire from her eyes then, but instead she tried to control her breathing, willing her unbreakable mask into place. Dorian wiggled his fingers over her belly but didn't touch her skin, and still Manon couldn't help the bouts of spasm as she tried to angle away from him, chuckling despite her efforts.

"Fine, it's true!" She relented and Dorian let go of her only to find himself pinned beneath her in one quick flurried motion. Manon slapped his shoulder hard, with her immortal strength, causing him to ouch for real this time.

"Don't tickle me!" She was flushed red and looked beyond annoyed, her white hair cascading down her back and over her shoulders…and Dorian's eyes became heavy lidded as he watched her, enjoying as she straddled him, how her skin glistened with the moonlight coming from the window.

Slowly, tentatively…Manon bent down and brought her soft lips to brush over his. Dorian breathed her in as she kissed him again, this time his lips parting to meet her tongue, the taste of her making his skin boil with need. He cupped the nape of her neck, pressing her down towards him as they kissed with fervor and want, his body aching to be inside of her again.

Manon must have felt the same as she angled herself forward before coming down on his hardened shaft, making him grunt as her warmth enveloped him in the most intimate of ways. She paused for a second, adjusting to his fullness before setting a lazy pace, her eyes never breaking contact with his. Dorian felt mesmerized by the witch-queen, with her fluid movements, her grace…how perfect they fit together. His hands held her firmly, longingly, as he helped her down harder against him while keeping to her slowed pace. It felt…otherworldly. Wholly unreal as his eyes closed, a grunt escaping his mouth again as he felt himself coming so close to the edge of that wonderful precipice.

"Manon…" He breathed her name like a prayer to the gods, and despite his best efforts, felt himself too close now. He couldn't even hold on to her anymore, not as she drove him slowly but steadily towards the abys.

"Open your eyes." She commanded softly, and Dorian did as he was told, just in time to see as Manon bit her lower lip, her breathe ragged as she leaned forward, her hands bracing his chest. The change in angle was all he needed to tumble right off the edge of reason and pleasure, as he held her down against him, a loud hiss escaping his lips. She came with him and he had half the mind to help her enjoy the last of her pleasure before they both collapsed on the bed, exhausted.

When Dorian fell asleep, he didn't dream again.

* * *

 

Manon pet Abraxos after dismounting from the saddle. He nuzzled her hand and huffed into his favorite spot on the large balcony. A palace steward already waited for him with his favorite treats and Manon nodded in thanks.

As she turned, however, she came face to face unexpectedly with the Hand of the King.

"Your Majesty." He was quick to say, his lips pressed together in a slight smile. It didn't reach his eyes. Manon nodded in greeting and waited for the man to speak to her.

"I just wanted to ask you about Dorian…" He began, and Manon could tell he was struggling with what he meant to ask. But the fact that he'd approached her at all…something tugged at her. Something which made her stomach flip with dread.

"These nightmares he's been having lately. They worry me." He finally came out with it, eyeing her with an unwavering stare, his posture rigid.

"They started not long ago, and it's been a couple of years since Erowan's and Meave's defeat." He paused, his bronze gaze boring into her golden eyes. "What do you think it means?" He finally asked.

"I don't know." Manon answered truthfully.

"You're a witch. Could this be a curse? Could it be something…else?" Chaol's worry shown through his eyes, his features twisting with it.

"I'm not sure…but now that you ask." A thought occurred to Manon.

"He claims the dreams feel real." She mused out loud, going over everything he'd told her about the dreams. Chaol nodded probably having heard the same from Dorian.

"What if they are? What if…somehow…he's seeing remnants of a possible outcome from the war?" If they hadn't won the war. If Meave and Erawan had succeeded. The thought sent a chill down her spine and she could see how it did the same to Chaol.

"The guards tell me every time he wakes up screaming. I'm glad you were here last night." He nodded in gratitude. They may never be truly friends, but at least the shared one thing in common...Dorian's undying loyalty and affection. It was enough to keep them amicable.

"Yes, well…I leave today. I have to get back." She debated briefly whether she truly needed to go or not, but she knew she did.

"I understand. If you think of something…or perhaps one of the older witches, they might know something of this?" He pressed, apparently trying to employ her in figuring this out.

"Chaol. It might just be the most obvious thing." Post-war depression. A sense of guilt for surviving when others didn't. Manon herself had gone through a rather dark, ominous period, especially as she came to terms with the death of the Thirteen.

"Perhaps. But perhaps not." His eyes found hers again, and Manon nodded in agreement, agreeing to look further into it.

* * *

 

"I'll return in about a month." Manon surrendered the information without being asked. Dorian smiled with a lazy smirk as he approached her, his hands winding around her lower back, pulling her closer.

"I'll have to make due with myself until then." He teased as he pecked her lips, once, twice…trice. Their kiss deepened, and Manon found herself getting lost in the Kings embrace, forgetting the long ride ahead. She pulled apart, eyeing him curiously and perhaps showing more concerned than she hoped, or that Dorian appreciated.

"I'll be fine." His tone turned serious-colder, as he said this.

"If you get too bored with yourself, you could always visit." She surprised them both by saying. Up until this point, she'd never invited him over to the Wastes. His smirked returned, and she already regretted saying the words.

"We'll see." Was his only response, throwing her own infamous words back at her. She nodded in a final goodbye and mounted Abraxos. They were off instantly, flying home towards the Wastes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As nightmares continue to plague Dorian, he seeks refuge with a certain white-hair witch. But will she welcome him in the Witch Kingdom?

_He still knelt in front of the dais which held the throne made of bones. Bones which had once belonged to his friends. Aelin, Aedion, Rowan, Chaol, Lysandra, Gavriel, Lorcan, Elide, Fenrys, Nesryn…they were all mere bones now. Long dead as hundreds of years had passed since the great war. Manon remained at the foot of the dais, even as the Valg king stood, leaving after Dorian's new mistress._

_"Dorian, be a good puppet. Do not move until I come back." Meave ordered, tugging directly into his mind with her order. Soon, they were both gone from the throne room._

_Dorian remained kneeling, staring directly at the woman who'd once been his lover. He still remembered the feel of her skin, the warmth of her…the taste of her tongue, the taste of_ her _. Meave took everything from him, but she couldn't erase Manon completely, not as she'd imprinted herself in his very bones._

_Manon's eyes cleared, turning a molten gold as she gracefully stood and made her way down the dais until she was right in front of him. Her bare feet didn't make a sound on the stoned floor, nor did the too thin clothe of her dress rustle as she knelt before him. The chain linked to the collar on her neck clanked softly but not enough to call attention to them._

_Their eyes locked._

_And Dorian could feel the roaring of his magic within him. He could feel the thundering beat of his heart. He wanted nothing more than to lift his hand and touch her face, to embrace the once witch-queen. He couldn't move, though._

_Meave ordered it so._

_Manon's hands tentatively came up, hovering over his face until finally they framed his cheeks, one of them moving to brush away the hair over his brow. Her touch felt agonizing against his skin._

_"Princeling." She whispered, and Dorian realized what she did. She meant to see if he was still in there, if there was something left of him. Even if he was still there somehow, there was no way for him to break free. He'd tried for years. There was clarity in her eyes and perhaps an understanding of what she needed to do. She needed to kill him. He wanted to tell her to do it, to please end it, end_ him _._

_Suddenly, Manon was yanked back away from him and dragged across the stone floor by her neck._

_Erawan was back, and the rage and hatred emanated from him was now directed at the once witch-queen._

_Dorian's magic roared within him, burning him from the inside, and still…Dorian couldn't move._

* * *

Dorian awoke with a pang on his chest, but kept himself from screaming lest the guards outside his door hear. He shoved his head into his pillow before sobbing into it.

Why?  _Why_  did these dreams plague him so? Hadn't he suffered enough?

Just when things were getting better…as his kingdom thrived, as he himself found happiness with Manon. Sure, they had a complicated long-distance relationship, further challenged by Manon's inability to own up to her feelings and his insistence in not pushing her in the least. He didn't want her to feel caged, shackled by their relationship, and yet they both knew it was only getting more intimate, more serious. Just… _more_. Intense, undeniable and irrevocable.

He'd forgiven himself for Sorcha's death. Had asked her forgiveness for giving his heart away again and felt vindicated as a phantom wind caressed his face, forgiving him.

And now, these dreams threatened to unravel him. To destroy him from the inside.

He couldn't sleep, he barely ate now a days. He'd missed meeting after meeting just this week, and Chaol was going crazy trying to keep things together. Yrene had tried every trick she knew to heal him…but there was nothing to heal. There was nothing physically wrong with him.

After his heart and mind settled enough, Dorian pushed himself to his feet and dressed. Not in his usual shirts and overlaid vest and elegant pants. He dressed in his fighting leathers, buckling the lapels of the vest before wrapping his long cloak around him and strapping it to the shoulder pads. He sheathed Damaris at his hip and then stepped out into the balcony. He leaped, turning into a wyvern, booming powerful wings bellowing as he flew across the darkened sky.

Even in his haste to get away, he had half the mind to leave a note to Chaol.

 _I'll be back. Just need to be away for some time. Don't burn my kingdom down while I'm gone._  -D. H

* * *

He flew almost non-stop until he reached the witch kingdom, and as he descended on the battlement of the witch castle, Dorian felt uncertain for the first time. A dozen witches, both Crochan's and Ironteeth, lingered nearby and approached as the unsaddled wyvern landed. In a flash, Dorian transformed into himself and could hear as the witches murmured to one another in wonderment. One of them pulled a sword, aiming it expertly at Dorian.

"Don't." He heard someone say, and he couldn't catch much of the conversation as they seemed to talk one over the other, assessing him and the potential threat of danger.

"…King…Adarlan…." "…queen's mate…" "…why is he here…"

"Your Majesty." One of the witches stepped forward from the gathered crowed, and Dorian recognized her from his time at the Crochan's camp. To when he set out with Manon and the Thirteen to gather the Crochans and find the remaining Wyrdkey. The young witch looked surprised to see him, but she was quick to guide him inside the castle itself, and Dorian wasted no time in going after her.

Of all the things he expected, he wasn't expecting  _this_.

Manon stood in a rather plane room, wearing a rather simple beige dress, moon-white hair down, feet bare. Petrah and Bronwen looked much the same as all three stared down at the table before them and watched as Glennis dropped something into a small caldron. Blueish smoke rose up and the four witches all smiled to each other. That's when Manon's gaze caught his, her smile disappearing instantly.

"Dorian." She whispered his name as a million different emotions seemed to run through her face, through her bright golden eyes.

"King Dorian." Glennis tilted her head slightly as she observed him, obvious concern evident in the older witch's eyes.

"May I?" Dorian pointed to a pitcher of water by the corner, realizing how thirsty he was and how tired he felt only when he saw it.

Manon moved faster than he did, pouring water in a wooden cup she quickly handed to him. Glennis pointed him to a chair and he almost collapsed on it. There was silence in the room as Dorian downed the water and Manon refilled his cup without him asking.

"I didn't mean to interrupt." Dorian offered, but only to break the silence which had befallen the room. Glennis's lips turned into a thin line, and he didn't miss the look she exchanged with Manon.

"I'll call for some food." She stated simply, aiming for the door.

"Have it sent to my room." Manon interjected before she commanded him to follow after her. Dorian felt as every step weight him down, and forced himself to at least look around as he was led down a long corridor, which felt to be as long as the entire length of the castle. It was an old, ancient castle, and he could tell the witches were still rebuilding some of the crumbled areas of the stone walls. There were no panes on the archways and so it would be frigid in the winter time. It was, however, immaculately clean. Finally, they reached the end of the long corridor and wound left, coming to a wide set of double doors. There were witches guarding the doors and they soon bowed softly as they opened them, allowing them through.

Manon's room was more like an entire apartment. There was a large sitting area, a kitchenette area, a small balcony just beyond the living room, and a wide set door to the left and another to the right. There wasn't much for decoration, though Dorian did catch Wind-Cleaver casually leaning against the wall along with the buckles and straps. There was a witch broom next to the ancient sword.

Interesting.

"This way." She led him through the wide set doors into her bedroom, where he found a large bed, larger than his it would seem. The room also led to a large balcony which lined the entire length of the bedroom. There was a fireplace and another door, which he assumed to belong to the washroom.

Dorian carefully looked around the room. There was a sudden stillness to Manon he couldn't quite understand, that is until his eyes landed on her desk just next to the balcony door. There were piles of papers on the left-hand side, and neatly stacked envelops to the right. He didn't dare get any closer to see, as clearly Manon looked tense enough at him catching her almost impeccable room, disordered in just one area of her desk.

He smirked. There was a simple elegance to her private quarters. No decorations, everything was either an earthy color or off-white, including the bedsheets, just two pillows on the bed. Everything tidied up, in its place.

"I am such a slob." He said, half confessing half realizing it as he noticed the stark differences between their bedrooms. Before Manon could speak, there was a knock on her door and a young witch came in carrying a tray. Manon guided her to place it down on a small stand next to her bed and thanked her before sending her out.

"Sit, eat."

Dorian did as he was told. He ate silently, his movements strange to him, as his mind was foggy still, tired from his lack of sleep and the long journey to the witch kingdom. He needed sleep, and yet he was scared of what it would bring.

When he finished eating, Manon pointed him into the washroom. The tub had been filled with warm water, the old fashion way. Apparently, there were no water pipes in the castle. And he hadn't seen anyone else walk into the room…did Manon filled this up herself?

Too tired to ponder on such things, he began to unbuckle his cloak/cape, struggling with the clasps at the shoulder, his fingers somewhat numb. Manon gently brushed his fingers aside so she could do it. Deftly, she had his vest unbuttoned and helped pull his shirt up over his head. It wasn't a sensual removal of his clothing, as they both recognized Dorian's state of vulnerability. He felt fragile and weak and Manon strong and stable. A solid rock in a raging river.

Their eyes locked, and a small smiled tugged at his lips.

"Are you going to help me with my pants?" He needed to hear himself be himself, if only to hear the sound of his voice. Manon saw it for what it was, and there was a flash of something he couldn't quite place. Grief? Worry?  _Heartache_.

"I'm fine. I just haven't slept well in the last two months." He tried to ease the sorrow she tried to hide now behind a frown.

"You will sleep after you bathe." Her voice left no room for argument and she quickly and expertly undid the buttons of his pants before leaving the washroom.

Dorian did as he was told. Once out of the washroom, wearing only his undergarments and no shirt, he made his way onto the large bed and basically collapsed onto of it.

 _"Sleep Dorian. I will be here guarding your dreams."_  He could have sworn he heard Manon say, as he drifted off into oblivion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and thank you for everyone who's left a Kudo, truly appreciate it! More to come! :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a story within a story! I hope you enjoy :) I will try to update every Friday if not sooner, so stay tuned for the next chapter!

* * *

_Manon was dragged back until her head hit hard against the dais. She didn't make a sound nor did she flinch as Erewan grabbed her by the hair and lifted her until she was standing._

_"Come now, brother. Don't waste a beautiful little pet for falling into temptation. Don't forget they were once lovers." Meave in fake persuasion, as clearly took pleasure in watching Dorian kneeling, unable to move, as Erawan did as he pleased with Manon._

_Dorian could still recall as Manon screamed as Erawan forcibly removed each of her iron nails…pulling them out one by one…Her screams still reverberated through Dorian, through his memories. It made his magic roar louder within him, and he could feel as the stone beneath his one bent knee began to crack._

_"Dorian. Rise." Meave commanded and he obeyed. But his gaze was still focused forward, to Erawan as he continued to hold Manon by the hair. He let go of her, shoving her down forcibly so she once again sat in front of his throne._

_"It didn't have to be this way. I gave her the choice of being my queen and she chose to be my prisoner." Erawan had the audacity of sounding remorseful as he took a seat on his throne of bones, his gaze now falling on Dorian._

_"I must say, your methods of controlling your subjects is no fun at all, sister. I much rather do it my way." He grinned. It was an evil grin. Made of all things vile and terrible._

_"I don't control this one like I do the others. There was no need for a blood oath with my young husband." The Valg queen invaded his mind and took over his thoughts with her vile magic. Unlike her other subjects, she didn't even bother with the blood oath. It was meant to further insult him, he knew. He couldn't prevent being collard, and now he couldn't prevent Meave from taking over his mind, his thoughts, his body…she took his free will and his dignity. And mostly, she took his will to live._

_"I don't have to do any of that with my witch." Erawan bragged as he tapped his fingers on the armrest, his gloved fingers thrumming over the bone of Dorian's friends…_

_There were footsteps echoing behind Dorian, coming closer and closer. Strong, steady footsteps. Dorian didn't move to look, but he could tell by Manon's eyes, and the way they glazed over with dread…he could tell this was how Erawan controlled her._

* * *

 

Manon stared at the sleeping man whom now invaded the left side of her bed.

He'd slept two days straight and still did not show any signs of waking. Manon hated how she'd barely left his side, how she couldn't bring herself to simply leave him be. She needed to make sure he was breathing and she didn't trust the others to tell her if anything was wrong. Manon hated how she'd become such a fussing nursemaid, but still couldn't help herself.

Now, after two days of working from her room just so she could watch his chest raise and fall…now she truly started to worry. Why wasn't he waking? Was he so tired?

Or was he trapped in his nightmare? What if he couldn't wake from it? Panic rose within Manon then and she summoned her council. And so now Petrah, Bronwen and Glennis stood within her room.

"It has to be a Yellowlegs. Before the fall of the Witch Kingdom over five hundred years ago, the Yellowlegs were known for casting curses that would make men go mad." Glennis insisted. They'd held this conversation for weeks now, since Manon had returned from Rifthold the last time. Since Chaol had approached her with his concern.

"But why would they care for the King of Adarlan? Why not strike at  _me_?" Manon asked, not understanding why the Yellowlegs would bother with Dorian. She didn't think they wanted anything with Adarlan, especially after the defeat of Erawan and Dorian's alliance with Terrasen and the rest of Erilea.

"They do strike at you." Petrah pointed out, her icy blue eyes shifting to Manon.

"They strike at you through those you care about." She explained, and Manon could feel as Bronwen sucked in a breath next to her. They all stood silent, waiting for Manon to either rebuke or agree with Petrah's statement. She did neither as her eyes fell on the sleeping King again. He was slightly drooling on her pillow…

"They curse the King of Adarlan, making him weak and vulnerable and then what? Move in on the Witch Kingdom? Do they plan to attack? Could their numbers be so great?" Bronwen asked, but seemed skeptical of the latter.

"Or they hope to draw Manon out. To send her in search of whomever did this." Glennis offered, her voice calm and wise.

Manon frowned and bit her lower lip as she considered the possibilities.

"What happens to Adarlan if their King…" Petrah, wisely, didn't finish the sentence.

"His brother would be King. But he's very young still. Perhaps Lord Chaol would rule until he comes of age." Manon found herself saying, somehow understanding the politics of it despite her pretense of not caring.

"But what would happen to  _us_  if their King were to be harmed while in our Kingdom?" Bronwen asked, pointing out how precarious the situation truly was. For Dorian and for their still young kingdom. Could Adarlan turn on them? Would Terrasen or the rest of their allies in Erilea consider them enemies if something happened to Dorian?

"Can we break the curse?" Manon finally asks, her golden eyes still fixed on Dorian's face. That beautiful, wicked face…

"Not with what we have here. We need to understand more." Glennis stated, her voice steady.

"I might know who could help…" Petrah trailed off, but Manon knew what she meant, or  _whom_ rather.

"Find her. Find your mother. I will pay her a visit myself." Manon commanded, uncaring of her tone.

It was time for Cresseida to pay back a life debt.

* * *

 

Dorian's eyes opened to strange surroundings. Initially, he had no idea where he was nor why he was there. Or how he got there. The beamed ceiling looked completely foreign, just as the blankets and the firm bed felt strange. His eyes roamed over the bright room until they landed on a very familiar form sitting behind a desk. He could see the graceful stroke of her hand as she wrote on parchment, her moon-white hair falling over her shoulder as she leaned forward slightly. Her brows were pulled together and her lips slightly parted.

_Beautiful_. He couldn't help as his heart quicken just by staring at her.

Her golden eyes lifted suddenly, catching him staring. She stilled, and he could tell she held her breath. Their eyes locked.

"How do you feel?" She asked, somewhat carefully.

"I feel…" He began, and soon realized he really needed to pee.

"I need to go relief myself." He managed a half smile as he slowly tried to sit up. He heard the chair skid back as Manon rose, and she was next to him in seconds.

"Do you plan to carry me to the washroom?" He asked teasingly, causing her to narrow her eyes.

"If you fall on your face, I will not move to help you." She retorted as she crossed her arms and took a step back. She was wearing a similar gown as when he'd arrived…how long ago now?  
"How long was I asleep?" He asked as he took his time in standing, feeling as his body felt numb in too many places.

"You slept for three days."

This made him pause. No wonder he had to pee so badly.

Dorian took his time crossing the room, his toes still numb. Manon followed behind him and apparently waited outside the washroom as she was still there when he came out.

"I called for food." Manon stated before she moved to turn around. Dorian caught her hand and pulled her closer to him, her dress bellowing with the sudden movement, until he could frame her face with his hands. She meant to protest but he quickly hushed her as he covered her lips with his. He tilted her head upwards to deepen the kiss, coaxing her tongue with his until she reciprocated the kiss. At first, she felt stiff against him, but soon she seemingly relaxed, her body molding into his, her hands coming around his back. When they finally came apart, he pressed his forehead against hers, closing his eyes.

"I'm sorry." He whispered. Not sure why he apologized but somehow knowing he should.

Manon took a deep breath before pulling away from him.

"I said you could come." She said, probably meaning to deflect his apology.

"Yes, but not like  _this_. I didn't mean to intrude on you and then collapse on your bed for three days." That's exactly what he'd done. Manon ignored him as someone knocked on the door of the room and a young witch proceeded to bring a tray of food. Manon pointed the witch out to the balcony, where a tall table for two was available.

As Dorian ate, he was able to see much of the Witch Kingdom, the ocean beyond the now green fields. There were wyverns flying around, and witches on brooms could be seen jetting across the sky. Manon didn't sit with him but stood with her hands folded, resting on the ledge of the balcony as she stared out into the horizon. So, once he was done eating, he joined her.

"It's beautiful." He said with sincerity.

"It's less busy than Rifthold." Manon pointed out, making him smile.

"Yes, well…wait a couple more years and this place will be buzzling as well." Dorian could almost forget what brought him here in the first place as they stood there, side by side. He felt… _clearer_.

"Lord Westfall has sent a small brigade of Adarlan soldiers and they should be arriving within the day. He says they are to be stationed around the castle for precaution. I suppose he doesn't trust us with your royal neck." Manon sounded somewhat miffed and Dorian had to hide a smile.

"I'm pretty sure Chaol knows Adarlan soldiers are no match for the witches. It's probably more for optics. As King, I shouldn't be traveling on my own." He offered, truly believing this even if Manon looked skeptical. They stayed silent for some minutes, all the while Dorian couldn't keep his eyes off her.

"I didn't realize how… _different_ …it is here. How comfortable you look in your own space." Dorian pointed out, and for the first time he understood some of the apprehension Manon always seemed to possess for their relationship. Their interactions always took place in his own space; in Rifthold, in his palace, in his room.

He was the outsider now, and this was her domain.

And yet, Manon turned to look at him, her golden eyes bright with pride, her features calm and serene as the wind mildly blew on her hair.

"Would you like to see it?" She asked, and that was a small smile on her face.

* * *

 

The main street was still a bare road lined with temporary structures that were being upgraded little by little. As a mixture of stone and sand was added to the wooden frames, making them permanent and steady. There were many hearths and too many tents still erected around them, but there was definitely progress and pride in the work being done.

"We spent quite some time habilitating the old castle, but now we've clearly outgrown it and we've started rebuilding the city itself." Manon explained.

"Are the Crochan's and the Ironteeth keeping apart?" Dorian asked, unable to differentiate between the witches as they walked among them. Many stopped to look at them, but most continued their tasks, and hammering could be heard coming from more than one direction.

"No. Bronwen and Petrah will assign any new joining coven to an existing coven from the opposite witch group. This forces them to live and work together. Each coven is responsible for building their own homes, and they must all help each other. Many of the rebel Ironteeth who fought in the war had already joined Crochan covens by the time we arrived to the Wastes. It sort of happened…naturally." She finished explaining as they were waved over to one of the burning hearths, with Ironteeth and Crochan gathered around to eat their evening meal. Manon was offered a bowl of the stew that was being served, and she graciously accepted one for herself and one for Dorian.

The witches made space for them to sit on the surrounding logs, and so they quietly ate the stew.

"It's delicious." Dorian complimented the young witch by the hearth whom had served them, making her blush.

Some of the soldiers Chaol had sent stood around, lingering nearby. He could see they were as awestruck as he felt. There were also a surprising number of men. Helping with chores or sitting around hearths also eating their evening meals.

"The Crochans…they brought their husbands and sons." Manon answered, apparently having followed his line of sight. Indeed, there was a boy around five years old running after a young witch of the same age. They tagged each other in a fit of giggles before another youngling surprised them both by jumping out from behind a stack of logs. Their giggles made Dorian smile.

"As Crochans, we honor the Fae tradition of mating. Some would even argue that there is a remnant of the actual bond." An older witch commented. She sat closer to the hearth and perhaps this was her coven.

"That explains some of the comments I received when I first arrived." Dorian said as he realized this. He remembers someone muttering something about Manon's mate…

"Do you perform a ceremony?" He asked the older witch, and then regretted the question as Manon stilled next to him.

"Yes. The coven leader will perform the ceremony." The witch answered with a small smile on her wrinkled face. She must be ancient, Dorian realized, if she showed such obvious signs of age.

"Sounds exactly like getting married." He said with amusement and sort of hoped the subject would die there.

"Except humans seem to find ways out of their marriages. When we mate, it is forever." The crone further elaborated, her eyes softening as they moved from Dorian to Manon.

Manon simply stared down at her bowl of stew, apparently finding some interest in her spoon.

"I see." He settled for saying as he stood and handed back his empty bowl. "It truly was delicious." He complimented the young witch by the hearth again as she took his bowl.

"Thank you, Y-Your Highness." She stuttered slightly, making Dorian smile.

"It's Your Majesty, actually, as he is the King of Adarlan." Manon spoke softly as she handed her own bowl to the young witch, her eyes widening in shock. Manon gave the young witch a soft, reassuring smile which had her blushing further.

"Yes, Your Majesty." She was quick to say, eyeing them both with awe and fright.

"You may call me Dorian, actually. What is your name?" He asked, giving her one of her trademark smiles to make sure she felt at ease.

"D-Daria." She stuttered again.

"Well, thank you Daria for this wonderful meal. I truly appreciate it." Dorian smiled one last time to everyone around the hearth before Manon led him back towards the castle.

They stayed in silence for some moments until they reached the gates, now guarded by both Adarlan soldiers and witches.

"It is so natural for you to converse with others." She mussed, making him smirk.

"Is that a compliment, withcling?" He teased, as they reached the entrance to the palace and walked right in.

"It's an observation." Her tone was not playful but she didn't sound upset, either. If anything, she sounded insecure. Dorian paused, looking at Manon curiously.

"Do you find it hard to converse with your people?" He asked, but already knew the answer.

Manon frowned but turned to him. Her brows slightly furrowed and lips lightly pursed in thought. Gods, he wanted to kiss her right there and then.

"I find it difficult to be as approachable." She confessed, her golden eyes meeting his.

"Hmm…I could give you a few pointers, you know. But it will cost you." His voice lowered as he stepped forward and inched his head closer to hers, until they shared breath.

"You're in no position to ask for payment, princeling." And yet her voice sounded strained and he could see as her breathing changed. It was her tell.

Before he could retort, Petrah Blueblood rounded a corner, her blue robes bellowing as she made her way towards Manon with unbreakable focus.

"I found her. I found my mother." She said with excitement before realizing they were in an open area and that Dorian was right there. She eyed him with surprise before turning to Manon, probably realizing her mistake.

"Why have you been searching for the Blueblood matron?" He asked. After the war, the witches had decided not to pursue a vengeful path. Instead, Manon had declared amnesty for all Ironteeth whom were willing to return and help rebuild the witch kingdom. Those who didn't join them would not be hunted down, but they would be forever shunned from the Wastes. Cresseida, he knew, had chosen to remain in isolation.

Manon didn't meet his eyes, as her own were lost in thought.

" _Manon_." He called her name with surprising force, making her jerk her head towards him.

"It is none of your business." She seethed before turning away from him and heading down a long corridor.

"I'll see you in the room later." She didn't even bother to turn to him as she dismissed him, leaving Dorian alone and confused.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As all the previous chapters, this one starts with Dorian's dream right where it left off in Chapter three. Enjoy!

_The footsteps became louder and louder as they approached the dais, until Dorian could see the leathered clad rider. Her breastplates were dark and scaled, like the skin of a wyvern, and her helmet had near replicas of the wyvern fangs at either side. There was a sword strapped to the witches' back, and he recognized it to be Wind-Cleaver._

_"Ahh, there she is. My prized Wing-Leader." Erawan beckoned the witch forward, and she removed her helmet before doing so, midnight dark hair cascaded down the witches back._

_"Father." She said, and there was no warmth in her voice, no love for the man who sat before her on the throne of bones._

_"My daughter. Come…sit." He pointed to the spot next to Manon, at the foot of the dais. The witch didn't hesitate as she sat, now facing forward so Dorian could see her features. She had bright golden eyes, identical to Manon's. In fact, if it wasn't for the dark hair, they could have been confused for twins. She looked…bored, and didn't even glance at Manon, uncaring that there was blue blood coming down the side of her head and dripping on the stone floor. Manon must have cut herself when Erawan yanked her by the chain around her neck and her head hit the dais._

_"My daughter has hunted down and captured any remaining rebel for centuries now. She has singlehandedly annihilated my enemies and led my armies through victory."_

_"_ Our _armies." Meave corrected, coming to stand next to Dorian and running a soft, cold hand down his cheek, perhaps meaning to taunt Manon. But her eyes were muted again and she looked unbothered by Meave's touch._

_"She has finally brought me the last descendant of Yrene Westfall. The last remaining healer in all of Erilea."_

_This made Manon's eyes snap forward, her nostrils flaring._

_Dorian supposed this would finally be the end. The last remnants of Erilea existed across the narrow Sea, in Antica, where the healers of the Torre Cesme had kept hope alive for centuries after Terrasen's fall and the destruction of Aelin Ashryver Whitehorn Galathynius._

_His friend._

_Yerene survived and hid her child from Erawan by returning to Antica. But it seems the endgame was finally here._

_"What's wrong with him?" The Wing-Leader asked, pointing at Dorian as he continued to stand, unmoving._

_"This is my husband, the King of Adarlan." Meave cupped his chin and squeezed him. The magic within him recoiled at her touch, but he knew outwardly he merely blinked._

_"But what's_ wrong _with him?" She asked again, looking to him in disgust._

_"I control him." Meave answered simply. The Wing-Leader arched a brow, but didn't look impressed. She reclined back on her elbows as she stretched a leg forward, casually._

_"Father says Valg queens are very powerful." She stated as a fact, although it almost sounded like a taunt._

_"Did he, now?" Meave didn't sound amused, but Erawan grinned. His bright, gold eyes shining brighter than Dorian could ever remember._

_"Father says_  I'm _a Val queen." The witch smirked, her lips curling upward in an unmistakable and familiar gesture._

_Manon's eyes locked with his then, and Dorian knew…_ understood _…exactly how the Valg king controlled her and kept her docile at his feet._

_"Your_ fathe _r is wrong." Meave sneered, her eyes gleaming with malice and hate. It seems she'd also realized the truth. Of both the young witch's parentage and…_

_And that this was not a meeting, but an execution._

* * *

 

Manon woke up as Dorian rushed to the washroom and promptly emptied out the content of his stomach. He stayed hovering over the toilet for some time before finally getting up. She could hear water being poured onto the basin as he brushed his teeth and splashed his face. When he returned to bed, she was sitting up, wearing one of Dorian's shirts she liked to use as a nightgown. She'd taken maybe a dozen back from Rithfold over the years. Dorian never complained and clearly didn't mind. He'd borrowed one, even after the soldiers arrived with a trunk full of his stuff.

He sighed heavily as he sat, clearly unnerved by the nightmares. He'd been at the witch kingdom two weeks now, and though the first few days after waking up he looked and seemed better, she could see the dark circles return and this was not the first night he'd emptied his stomach like this.

"Where you ever…" He began but paused, perhaps uncertain of what he meant to ask.

"Remember that last night together at the Crochan camp?" He finally settled for asking as he scoots back on the bed until his back is against the bedframe and he's sitting next to her. Manon nodded. There was no forgetting that night for either of them…

"Did you…where you….did we…?" He fumbled for words and Manon wasn't sure what he meant to ask.

"You didn't get pregnant, did you?" He turned to look at her, his eyes wide with the horrors of the nightmare still fresh on his mind. It made Manon feel queasy.

"Wouldn't you know if I had?" Her tone was soft, and she braved her nerves as she reached out and caressed his cheek. She wasn't one to offer comfort, and yet, she felt incline to do it now. Especially as Dorian looked…hopeless.

"I suppose…" He closed his eyes and brought his own hand over hers, caressing her fingers and keeping her hand on his cheek.

"I wanted to say yes, you know. I wanted nothing more than to say yes." He opened his eyes, those impossibly sapphire eyes boring into hers, bringing both their thoughts to that faithful night inside that tent. To the last time Dorian saw the Thirteen alive. The day Manon claimed her crown, her destiny. Dorian had been there, had smiled so brightly it took her breath away.

"I know." And she did. She felt it that night. And many nights since…

"I sometimes feel you'll never forgive me for it." He confessed, finally letting go of her hand. Her hand trailed down his cheek to his neck before continuing down his chest, pausing over his heart.

"There's nothing to forgive. You did what you needed to do. You were simply braver than I was." Manon didn't want him to go to Morath because she cared, despite an entire century of not doing so, she cared for him, for the Thirteen, for the Crochan's and the Ironteeth. And, despite her grandmother's efforts, she cared because she  _felt_. She had feelings and emotions, dispute her inability to say most of them out loud.

"I fear when the nightmare ends, you and I will die in this dream-reality. And when I die in the dream…I will die here too." With her hand still over his heart, Manon could feel as his strong heart beat faster and faster with his revelation.

"I won't let that happen." Manon promised as her fingers curled over his skin, almost digging into him.

"I don't think you can stop it." He sounded defeated, and his words hurt more than she believed possible. Did he have such little faith in her? No, it was mostly because she hadn't told him what she knew. The day Petrah had revealed she'd found her mother, Dorian and Manon had argued as soon as she returned to her room, and she opted for not telling him about her plans to find Cresseida and her suspicion that Dorian was cursed by a Yellowleg.

Instead, she'd insisted finding Cresseida was witch kingdom business and that he needed to stay out of it. He cautioned against starting a conflict with the Ironteeth and things sort of escalated from there into a shouting match. Afterwards, they had the most incredible makeup sex she'd ever experience, and the subject sort of died then.

Now… _now_  Manon realized she needed to move fast. Faster than she'd initially anticipated. Especially as Dorian looked into her eyes, his sapphire orbs lined with fear the likes she'd never seen from him before. Not even when he spoke of going to Morath and finding the third Wyrdkey.

"You are the King of Adarlan, and you are the most powerful human in all of Erilea. You will not perish with these dreams, Dorian." Manon swore it and willed it so, and although he didn't look convinced, a small smile did finally graze his face. His smile soon turned into a grin as he leaned forward to kiss her.

"I love it when you talk like that." He murmured as he pecked her lips.

"Hmm?" She questioned, uncertain of what he meant. His lips moved away from her lips and left a trail of kisses down to her neck instead.

"Like you're  _my_ queen." There was a heavy meaning to his statement but they both ignored it as he pulled on the collar of her shirt (his shirt) to expose more of her skin for his lips to assault. Before she knew it, they shared a passionate kiss and then she was lying down before Dorian settled over her, pushing her nightgown up over her hips, not bothering to take it off as he rid himself of his undergarments.

Manon's eyes became heavy lidded as he slid inside her, pausing briefly before beginning his long, steady thrusts. His mouth came down over hers, claiming her and dragging a moan from her lips as he continued to thrust deep within her. His lips moved from her mouth to claim her neck again, his tongue teasing the skin right below her ear. She wrapped her hands around his back, feeling as his muscles flexed with his movements and pushing down on his lower back as he thrusts, so he reached deeper inside of her.

A groaned escaped him before he grinned wickedly with the promise of having her pay for it. He slowed and then pulled out completely, making her hiss a protest which soon turned into a moan as he lifted one of her legs over his shoulder and then plunged himself inside of her again.

Manon would never admit this out loud, she hardly admitted it to herself, but she knew with certainty there would be no one else for her; no one else that would make her blood boil with desire, her skin crawl with want and her heart thrum with…-she moaned,  _loudly_. As Dorian picked up the pace, and the friction of his thrusts and the angle of her lifted leg had her gasping for air at the mounting pleasure. He lowered her leg but had her wrap both of them around him before lifting her up and turning so he was sitting up on the bed and she was wrapped around him.

Manon leaned back slightly and he removed her nightgown over her head so they were both naked, their skins pressed together. He was panting and she knew he was trying his best to hold out as long as possible. Their lips came together in a passionate kiss, as his hands helped her move up and down, lightly drawing circles around her ribs, his thumb gracing the skin right below her peaked breasts.

They moved together, their kiss only breaking as they both reached the pinnacle of their pleasure as one, their lips coming apart as they each cried in pleasure. The world seemed to still then, as Manon tried to gulp down air, feeling herself shaking, her knees weak, her thighs burning…

Dorian kissed her forehead, then her cheek and then buried his head in her neck, his strong hands pulling her closer to him in an embrace. Her hands wound around his neck, digging her fingers in his raven locks, returning the need to feel him against her skin. He muffled something into her skin and hair, but Manon couldn't quite understand what he said over the loud roar of her heartbeat. It thundered within her chest, beating with fervor all the way to her ears, blocking out any other sound.

"I said…" Dorian pulled away from her so he could look into her eyes and so she could finally hear over the pulsing beat.

"…I love you Manon."

It took a couple of seconds for the words to sink in, but once they did, Manon wasn't sure what she was supposed to do…or say, after such a revelation. It's not like she was surprised at his admission, but she was taken aback that he would say so out loud. But she knew him to be suffering and in pain, and certainly the nightmares were taking their toll on him physically  _and_  mentally.

Taking one long, deep breath, she unwound herself from the King of Adarlan and finally slid off him. His hands hesitating at first but let her go before he collapsed onto the bed, face down. By the time she came back from the washroom, Dorian was already asleep.

* * *

 

The next morning, Dorian felt like a jackass. He knew Manon probably felt the same about him, too. Or worse, thought him a softhearted Crochan bore. A helpless dolt…more than Manon's silence, it was her stone-face which haunted him. There had been no reaction whatsoever.  _None_. He could have just told her he favored the color blue, and she would have reacted the same.

He placed the thought aside as he was given his breakfast in the main hall where most of the witches in the palace had their meals. He'd woken up to find the bed empty next to him, and so he'd quickly bathed, dressed and headed out in search for breakfast.

He took his plate of food and sat in front of the only witch he recognized at the moment. Karsyn, he recalled now. She'd been the one to recognize him when he arrived to the witch castle unannounced weeks ago.

Karsyn, good morning." He offered before taking a bite of his food.

"Your Majesty." Karsyn responded with a light nod.

"Just Dorian." He insisted before offering one of his casual smiles, which the witch reciprocated.

"How do you like our home?" She asked with curiosity, her dark hair spilling over her shoulder as she lightly tilted her head aside.

"I think it's great, impressive even." He meant it too. Karsyn smiled again, and there was pride in her eyes at his words.

"I'm surprised you're here and not on the battlement seeing Manon and Glennis off on their journey." Karsyn stated offhandedly before taking another bite of her food. Dorian frowned and forgot all about his breakfast as he stood and mumbled an 'excuse me', and was out the door.

* * *

 

When Dorian arrived on the battlement, Manon had yet to mount Abraxos though she stood ready to do so. Her hair was braided and she was wearing her riding leathers. Surprisingly, Glennis stood dressed much the same next to Manon, with Petrah and Bronwen standing in front of them, though one wore her usual flowy blue robe and the other one of the simp"le gowns the Crochan's seemed to prefer. Clearly, Petrah and Bronwen would be staying behind.

Manon's seemed to sense his approach and turned to look at him with bright, golden eyes, Bronwen and Petrah mumbled something Dorian couldn't hear and they soon left. Glennis found something else to do as well, though she did glance Dorian's way, her blue eyes lined with something akin to pity.

"You're  _leaving_? Couldn't bother to say goodbye?" He didn't bother hiding how upset he was as he asked-slash-questioned Manon. She raised a brow, her lips pressing together into a thin line.

"You don't get to question me in  _my_  kingdom." She stated flatly, but Dorian didn't balk, stepping right up to her until he towered over her with his height.

"I didn't think you'd cower so easily." He could feel his magic roiling within him, and such anger…

"I have some business to take care of. I'll be back within five days." He could tell he tried her patience with his tone, but he couldn't help the grin which spread over his face. It wasn't the happy sort.

"I see." She was running away, and he knew his anger shone in his eyes. Such anger as the like he hadn't felt since…since he destroyed the glass castle. Since he murdered his father.

"No, you don't." Surprisingly, it was her tone which softened, and was that moisture in her eyes? Manon lowered her gaze, closing her eyes briefly before staring up at him again with surprising clarity and determination.

"I will not allow you to wither and die." Her statement, and the way she said it…it almost knocked him backwards. Here he thought she meant to run away from what he'd said…and she was talking about saving him?

"I don't understand." He settled for saying, baffled. Though at the same time, something eased within him. Sure, he was confused, but at least he wasn't getting dumped as he initially thought and feared.

"I'll explain after I come back. You just have to trust me." Manon insisted, holding his gaze. He wanted to press her for answers, and yet…she asked him to trust her. And Dorian found he did trust her.

Completely.

"Alright." He conceded before nodding once. She nodded back to him and meant to turn away, but he reached out, placing a hand at her elbow so she wouldn't turn fully from him.

"Don't I at least get a goodbye kiss?" He resorted back to his humor just because he didn't want her leaving, and gods forbid something happen, and have this be their last encounter. Manon arched a brow, seemingly unmoored by his request.

"Do I get to run the palace in your absence?" He asked, opting for another tactic to get the tension off. He realized he was stalling, not wanting her to go. She probably realized it too, but answered just the same.

"Absolutely not. Petrah and Bronwen are in charge. Although…" She sighed, and he could see her swallowing before she stepped closer to him.

"I did ask them to ask you…while I'm gone…if you could…" She bit her lower lip, another tell of hers, which indicated she felt unsure.

"If I could what?" His voice lowered, almost rough, making her look up at him and hide a small smile.

"If you could help with some of the rebuilding. Just talking to the covens…like we did a couple of weeks ago? Perhaps use some of that magic of yours. I'm sure it will help you take the edge off."

Dorian considered her request, a lazy smile returning to his lips.

"Sure, but on one condition." He said, making her eyes narrow.

"I am  _not_  kissing you in front of everyone." She almost barked the words, but did remember to keep her voice down just to make sure no one else heard as there were quite a few witches and guards stationed along the battlement. This made him grin further.

"Oh, come on. I think it would win you points to let everyone see you're not an ice-queen." He meant the statement in jest, but could see the flicker of truth cross her eyes.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean that." He quickly apologized, and kicked himself mentally for the blunder. Manon nodded softly, as though accepting his apology though still unsure of what to say or do.

"Crochan's do something else when they say goodbye." Manon said, and Dorian had never seen her look so uncertain in the years he'd known her, and he was half afraid she meant to tear out his heart with her iron nails. She muttered to herself, as though incredulous of what she meant to do, before bringing her right hand up and softly caressing his left brow with her thumb.

It was perhaps the most intimate gesture she'd ever afforded him in public. He smiled then, and it was a true genuine smile. He returned the gesture, running his own thumb over her brow and resisting the urge to kiss her all the same. He was further surprised, however, at what she said next.

"Don't leave before I'm back." And with that, Manon turned from him, joined her great-grandmother and they both mounted Abraxos. Soon, they were airborne, the white-hair witch never looking back as they flew away.

Dorian waited until he couldn't see them anymore to turn to Petrah and Bronwen, both of them looking at him with both amusement and pity.

"That's not really a Crochan thing, is it?" He asked as he made the gesture over his brow.

"It is now." Bronwen stated, smirking. Petrah bit her lower lip to keep from smiling and this made Dorian bark a laugh.

Despite their heavy goodbye, and his various blunders, Dorian felt optimistic. He just hoped his nightmares wouldn't drive him mad before Manon returned.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian continues to be plagued by the dreams...Manon is intent on saving him. Can she discover what is happening or is it already too late?

 

_The Wing-Leader smirked, eyeing Meave with a sense of confidence which had the Valg-queen seething through her teeth._

_"What is the meaning of this?" Meave's red lips were tight, her eyes dancing from the Wing-Leader to Erawan._

_"Did you really think I hunted the last healer in Erilea to destroy him? That I feared his gifts? You really think I don't know you have all three Wyrdkeys and that you've kept them from me?" Erawan stood, the throne of bones shuddering slightly with the shift of weight._

_"You must think me a fool, sister." He took a step down from the dais, the Wing-Leader still leaning back, smirking in that all too familiar way. Her eyes suddenly shifted to him…her head tilting to the side as though she were working out a puzzle._

_"Healers is how we managed to travel between worlds, sister." Erawan smirked at the revelation, and Dorian could see as all four exists from the great hall were now blocked by Valg infected kharankui spiders. As if to add insult to injury…using Meave's closest allies for the apparent betrayal._

_"Do you plan to attack me, brother? You wish to destroy me." Meave angled her chin upwards, and Dorian knew she readied her powers. Erawan barked a laugh and shook his head._

_"Of course not, sister. I wouldn't dare. I mean to take you home to my dear brother, your_ true _husband. Or perhaps I'll bring my brothers here." He looked around, as though admiring his dark kingdom with pride. Dorian could see as Meave's complexion changed from absolute anger and hate, to that of dread._

_Something tugged in his mind, and suddenly there was a sharp pain reverberating through the length of his body…form his head to the tip of his toes. Dorian fell to his knees, unable to stand the pain. He held the side of his head with his hands, trying to somehow alleviate the pressure suddenly building there._

_"Get the collar." Erawan ordered Manon. Her eyes locked with his before she gracefully stood and disappeared down a dark hallway, presumably to do as Erawan said, her own chains dragging on the stone floor. Panic, the likes Dorian hadn't felt since the fall of his friends, rose up within him at the mention of the collar._

_Meave's eyes were locked with the Wing-Leader, a lazy grin still on her lips as her bright, golden eyes moved from Dorian to the Valg-queen._

_"Your tricks won't work, my dear. You cannot sever the link between me and my husband. Dorian, stand!" Meave commanded him and despite the pain running through him, Dorian did as he was told._

_"Use fire and burn the bitch." Meave commanded with a sneer, her eyes narrowing into thin slits. Dorian plunged into the well of his powers, into the bottomless well, welcoming the raw magic and surrounding himself with it. He could feel his body shuddering, shifting…and suddenly, -a snap!_

_Clarity, the likes of which he hadn't felt since his capture, returned to him, just as the Wing-Leader smirked again._

_"My name is not bitch." She stood then and took a step forward, coming closer towards him and Meave. Erawan took a step back, as though knowing he didn't want to be caught between what was about to happen next._

_"Actually, it's a funny story, my name…." She took another step forward, her scaled boots echoing in the great hall, her raven hair spilling over her shoulders. A flicker of her hands and iron nails slid into place._

_"I have the nails of the Ironteeth, but not the teeth." She explained as she provided a wide ironteeth-less grin. "Ironteeth and the Crochans were decedent of Valg and Fae, so I am long lived…" Another step forward and now she stood so close to Dorian she could reach out a hand and touch him._

_"But it was truly from my father that I received most of my special gifts."_

_Her eyes locked with his, those bright golden eyes…suddenly, in a blink of an eye…they were no longer golden but sapphire._

_A shifter, like him._

_"My mother says I got my otherworldly charm from him too." The kharankui moved closer now, and Dorian continued to plunge into his magic, readying his strike…_

_"So, what to name me? After my mother's side or my fathers?"_

_"Daughter, get on with it…" Erawan warmed, perhaps growing bored with all the talking, or perhaps uncertain of what the Wing-Leader meant to do, for that was a frown on his face now._

_"Yes, father, of course. Let me just finish my story." She threw a smile his way, -his- smile. Dorian's trademark smirk. Manon arrived then, a black collar and chain in her hands, and a hooded figure stood behind her…_

_"Anyways…mother felt it'd be nice if I had a name from both sides. Rhiannon, for my witch heritage, and…"_

_"Elena." Manon called the Wing-Leader's name softly, her voice clear despite the torture she'd endured under Erawan's control for years. Her voice, which he hadn't heard in so long, was a song to his ears._

_"Urgh! I was building up to that!" Elena complained, and Dorian didn't miss as Erawan narrowed his eyes._

_"Elena…like Brannon's daughter who snared you, -_ father- _" She spat the word, "the one who locked you up for centuries. You didn't know that, did you? That I have a middle name? I have a last name too, you know." She turned back to stare at Dorian then, her eyes still shining in a sapphire blue, before quickly darting to Meave, as if giving him instructions._

_"It's Havilliard." She confessed._

_And then magic, the likes of which he'd never seen or felt before…was unleashed upon the world. Upon them all. Bright and raw._

_Dorian's magic roared again, ready to be unleashed as well._

* * *

Cresseida's leir wasn't what Manon expected. It was nothing more than a cave cluttered with scrolls, books and unnecessary furnisher. There was an opening right in the middle, however, which allowed her to look up at the bright stars dotting the sky above. It was there they found her; standing with her head inclined backwards as she gazed up at the stars, her deep blue robes bellowing softly with a lazy draft coming through the shaft, the band of barbed iron stars around her brow.

"If you come closer, you'll see it too. The stars tell me there will be a Blood Moon." Cresseida's willowy voice echoed through the chamber of the cave, her eyes still fixed to the stars above. Surprisingly, her iron nails and teeth were retracted, making her look more fragile than Manon ever remembered her to be.

"Cresseida." Glennis spoke first as she stepped closer to the once-Matron.

There seemed to be no one else with the once Blueblood leader. Her coven either dead or gone. There had been no sentinels and no one to stop them as Abraxos circled around the mountain nor landed at its base. As had been reported by Petrah, it seems the once Bluebood Matron had indeed chosen a life of solitude.

"Glennis." Her eyes finally shifted, dancing to Glennis's face before falling on Manon's. Her eyes widen with recognition and then she smiled softly before inclining her head just so.

"Your Majesty." Her voice sounded as grave as always, but there was something airy about it, too.

"We've come to ask you questions, Cresseida." Manon didn't feel like dragging this on longer than it needed to be. It took almost all her will power to leave Dorian two days ago, and her skin itched to be back to her kingdom, to see how the King of Adarlan faired.

To finally free him of this curse.

"I would think so." Cresseida offered a smile before stepping away from the opening, moving to a table cluttered with books and a number of adder stones, and pushed the books off until they carelessly fell to the ground. Manon and Glennis shared a glance before they stepped closer to the once Matron. Manon noticed then that the stones were laid atop a map. An ancient map, by the looks of it.

"This map was taken from the Witch-Castle, just after the fall of Rhiannon Crochan." Cresseida didn't seem concern with the blood history between the Ironteeth and the Crochan's, as though such things were part of history now, even though the war between their people truly ended just two years prior.

Manon nodded once, hoping Cresseida would get on with whatever she wanted to share.

"I noticed strange markings…" She pointed to what looked like a drop of blue blood encircled in strange runes. Then her fingered traveled across the map, and there was a drop of red blood, the runes different and more angular.

"This would be Adarlan today." She stated. Manon's golden eyes flickered to her great-grandmother, and she held a hand up as though to stop her from saying too much.

"Cresseida." Glennis simply said the once Matron's name, and Cresseida inclined her head, no-she  _bowed_ her head, in submission to Manon's great-grandmother.

"It is indeed a curse. That's what you came here to ask, isn't it?" Again, her voice sounded airy…light, even. As though she no longer carried a great burden within her.

"Who cursed him." It took all of Manon's will power to keep her voice leveled, her hands itching to snatch Wing-Cleaver and exact revenge on anything and anyone standing in her way.

"She has blue blood, is all I know. It could be any witch, though I would suspect, from it's location…." She pointed to the original drop of blue blood.

"Near Morath." Glennis pointed out, recognizing the location. The map was too old for Manon to follow, but not Glennis, it seemed.

"I hear a Yellowleg ancient survived. Sister to the Matron you so…eloquently…beheaded." Cresseida said before grabbing one of the adder stones and slamming it down on the table before peeking through its hole and into its glassy interior. Manon and Glennis shared another look.

Clearly, Cresseida was on her last hinges.

"Oh yes…a Yellowleg indeed. And a host, not formidable enough to attack the Witch-Kingdom, but enough to wreak havoc. And with your greatest ally indisposed…" Cresseida's eyes flickered to Manon, her brows furrowing with curiosity.

"Ally… _mate_ …?" She questioned, as though she'd seen something through the stone which made her question her original assessment.

Manon arched a brow, unwilling to answer the question. It was all Cresseida needed however, as her lips curled upwards into a knowing smile.

"Interesting…" She muttered before returning to the adder stone, peaking through the hole again.

"Cresseida?" Glennis called to her again, after a couple of more minutes in silence. The Blueblood merely raised a finger, asking them to wait a second before discarding the adder stone and using another one. This one had a smaller hole and so Cresseida seemed to struggle as she looked through it.

Suddenly, she straightened, her eyes wide as though in shock.

"You must find the Yellowleg and kill her before the Blood Moon. The way you killed the Matron…" Beheading. There seemed to be an 'or else', but Cresseida didn't elaborate as she ignored the map and made her way to the center of the room at the opening above the cave, looking up at the stars again. Manon's heart thrummed loudly against her chest, and she could feel the blood draining from her face.

This was not just a warning…but a premonition.

"…if you don't, your mate will perish…lost forever, and the Blood Moon will claim many lives…human and witch alike."

When Cresseida finished speaking, she blinked a couple of times before stumbling backwards. Glennis moved quickly, aiding the Blueblood to a seat not far away.

"What did you see, old friend?" Glennis asked, her voice calm and wise, yet her eyes betrayed her fears. For that was real fear in Glennis eyes…her blue orbs settling over Manon with evident dread.

"I see the Blood Moon will claim my daughter's life as well, and that of others…" Her eyes settled on Manon too, unnerving her to her very core.

"They will attack Rifthold, after killing the King of Adarlan and lay the ultimate blame with you, Manon Queen of Witches. You will be lost in sorrow and will die, leaving both kingdoms heirless and in turmoil."

"When is the Blood Moon?" Manon heard herself ask.

"In five days." Glennis surprised her by answering.

"Shit." It was less time than she hoped. But perhaps just enough to make it to Morath and find the Yellowleg. Just not enough time for much else, except for one vital stop.

"We fly now to the Ferian Gap and dispatch messengers to Rifthold and the Witch Kingdom. I will head out to Morath and find the Yellowleg." Manon stated, as the Ferian Gap was on its way and she'll need supplies. Glennis didn't object as she stood, Cresseida holding her head in one hand.

"Thank you, Cresseida. You are welcomed to visit your daughter if you wish." Manon stated in gratitude, though her tone was as cold as ever. She had bigger things to worry about now…

"Wait…you had one more question." Cresseida interrupted her as she turned to leave. Glennis arched a brow in question and Manon was about to do the same….except—

Manon did have another question. One she'd never said out loud before. Didn't dare…couldn't even bring herself to think of it, except in passing thoughts.

She didn't dare ask it now, though.

_Am I barren?_

Cresseida gave her an assessing stare from head to toe before standing, seemingly able to do so again.

"I think yes. And yet, maybe  _not_." She answered, even though Manon had not voiced her question.

"Your grandmother struck deep and true." She continued, pointing to her lower abdomen, where beneath her leathers, her grandmother's scar lay.

"It seems to me the stars have not written out such possibilities. You are barren, but your womb may yet be fruitful." She finished saying, confusing Manon further with her words. Glennis eyes snapped to her, then, and Manon couldn't hold her assessing stare.

"How?" She asked, uncertain…doubtful, even. How could she be barren and still be able to bare a child?

"You must let go." She said, as though it was obvious.

"Of  _what_?" Manon was losing her patience and almost demanded Cresseida stop speaking in riddles.

"Of fear, Manon, Queen of Witches. Let go of your fear."

And that, for some reason, sent a dark chill down Manon's spine.

* * *

Dorian was thankful for the seat he was offered around one of the hearths, and even more so for the earthenware bowl of goat stew he was given. Karsyn and Una, -another of the Crochan's he'd met while he traveled with the Thirteen, -sat next to him, both of them amused by his eagerness to sit and eat. Of course, they didn't know his exhaustion stemmed from his nightmares and his general lack of true rest. For months now.

"Using your magic must exhaust you, Your Majesty." Karsyn offered, alluding to their perception of why he tired so easily.

"Yes." He didn't further elaborate before taking another spoonful of the stew. He'd been coming out to help every day for the past week, using his invisible hands to lift heavy beams, or burning fire over medal that needed to be forged. He'd even help divert a small canal with his water magic, and healed quite a few injured children's scrapped knees and hands.

Every day he worked himself until a near burn out, all in the hopes of being too tired and exhausted to dream. It'd worked for a good five days, except the last two nights when the dreams returned. It also happened to coincide with the night Manon should have been back, but wasn't. Perhaps it was that fear within him, of not knowing where she was that brought back the dreams…

"Do not worry for the Queen, Your Majesty. She will be back soon." Karsyn seemed to read into his frown or perhaps she spoke to her own fears, as she wasn't the first witch to mention Manon's absence.

"I'm sure she'll be here soon. She can't live without me for long." He offered one of his smiles, and many around the hearth laughed or chuckled with his comment. For whatever reason, the witches enjoyed to hear about his relationship with Manon, as though it was a curious topic of conversation often between them. It was apparent that Manon's people didn't quite  _know_  her well, and while they respected her and followed her, perhaps they wanted something a bit more… _human_ from her. Maybe it was a Crochan thing, as he'd noticed the Ironteeth didn't seem to care much one way or the other.

"How did you meet Her Majesty?" A young witch asked, receiving a couple of glances from the older crones as if to say 'that's none of your business'. Dorian smiled, shaking his head to say it was alright.

"Well, it's a long and complicated story. But I was once possessed by one of Erawan's demons…" He paused to point to the thin scar around his neck. It was almost invisible now, but it still lingered even after the years that had passed.

"I couldn't remember who I was and felt lost and beaten to the darkness. The day I met Manon, …I remembered my name." Dorian became lost in the memory, remembering how her bright, golden eyes had scared away the demon which haunted him through the collar. Similarly, his own father had remembered his own name when Dorian was born, a parallel that always tugged at him as meaningful.

"I also went with her to find the Crochans, with the Thirteen." He said, trying to change the subject somewhat. There was a sudden stillness as the Thirteen were mentioned, and a murmur of remembrance and gratitude followed through the campfire.

"Yes, we all heard." Una mumbled under her breath so only Karsyn could hear, making her stifle a laugh. Apparently, they'd been loud enough that the Crochan's had all known of their tumbles within the small tent they shared on various nights. Dorian smirked, shrugging before taking another spoon of the stew.

"I suppose it's not a very romantic story." He admitted out loud to the gathered group, but the young witch looked content with what she'd heard.

"Even in the debts of darkness there's always a shining light." One of the crones stated with a gentle and soft tone, making Dorian smile again. Manon had indeed been his guiding light when he wore the collar. A light in the darkness, as the crone stated.

"Indeed." He agreed before mustering enough strength to stand and hand over his bowl.

"Thank you. Maybe next time I'll tell you about the time I convinced Manon to come to a ball with me in Rifthold." There were chuckles again around the fire, but any further laughter was interrupted as an Adarlan soldier appeared, eyes widen.

"Your Majesty. You must come quickly." And it was that sense of urgency in the soldier's voice that had Dorian running back into the Witch Castle.

Petrah waited for him, a letter in her hand. Bronwen standing stoically next to her, her eyes hardened.

"It's from Manon." And Dorian could see that was true, genuine fear in Petrah's eyes.

Dread settled over him as he read the letter. Once…twice.

"She wants me to stay here?" He questioned, incredulous she'd even ask such a thing when she also told him of the eminent attack on Rifthold.

"Glennis is already flying with the aeriel fleet from the Ferian Gap. They will protect Rifthold…" Petrah didn't sound so sure, though, and it was her uncertainty which worried him the most.

"What aren't you telling me?" He asked with no kindness in his tone.

"You will be protected here." Was all she said, but Dorian reached out with his magic, holding Petrah in place. Her eyes widen, but she couldn't stop as Dorian took the letter from her hand…the one she'd been trying to hide from him.

"Your Majesty…?" Bronwen asked slash threatened as she stepped closer to Petrah with surprising defensiveness. Dorian ignored her though and with half a thought released Petrah from his hold. She didn't move against him, not as he stepped away from them and unfolded the letter intended for Petrah.

_We were right. He has been cursed by a Yellowleg. I must behead the ancient before the Blood Moon or he'll perish. You must protect him at all cost, for our fate,-my fate, and that of our kingdom will depend on his survival. Do not let your guard down as you might also be a target of the attacks._

_-Manon_

"A curse?" He questioned under his breath, his sapphire eyes staring out into the darkness of the night, into the black oblivion just beyond the great field he knew to be a grassy green during daylight. He couldn't see any light, not as darkness seemed to envelope him and close in around him.

And there was nothing in that darkness to guide him home.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I always try to post on Friday, so I'm a day late with this, my bad! Hope you enjoy!

 

* * *

_Elena Havilliard unleashed her powers, but not towards Meave as they all expected. No, Elena Havilliard did the unexpected and unleashed herself at Erawan, a great wall of flame erupting around him and encapsulating him with fire so hot, the flames glowed white and blue._

_The Kharankui spiders screamed and shook their heads frantically, and Dorian suspected Elena was somehow responsible for this attack too._

_"You're welcome to join the party at any time, daddy dear." Elena didn't bother turning to him as she spoke and instead concentrated on her attack on the giant spiders. They trashed and screamed against whatever she did inside their minds, and soon there was blood…_ red _blood, coming down Elena's nostrils._

_"Dorian, destroy her!" Meave commanded him as she stepped back and back, away from Elena. Dorian turned towards her, however, and she realized he was no longer in her control._

_"No…impossible!" She seethed before lashing out with her dark powers, sending a wall of darkness directly towards him. With just a fleeing thought, he blocked her attack and in turn, unleashed the well of his powers onto her. Fire, as he knew Meave feared…brighter and hotter than Elena's, as his powers had been plunging into a bottomless depth for years now._

_Meave's powers cocooned her in darkness, but Dorian knew she was no match for his magic, not as he concentrated every bit of amber within him towards her. There was movement behind him as Manon moved to Elena and unshed Wind-Cleaver from her back, the hooded man who'd been next to Manon now standing along with her, sword in hand as well._

_"No time for proper introductions. But this is Terrin, Chaol and Yrene Westfall's direct descendant." Elena stated through clenched teeth, as Manon and Terrin got to work on the spiders, each beheading one as Elena wreaked havoc inside their minds._

_Dorian could only offer a nod to Terrin as he concentrated his fire upon Meave, but a quick glance did reveal the bronze of his eyes…_

_"He's also the only remaining royal of the Khagan empire, and thus heir apparent to the throne." Elena added before she was able to take a deep breath now that two of the spiders were dead._

_"He's also been bedding Elena." Manon added with a hint of amusement as she beheaded a third spider._

_"Mother! Really?" Elena complained, making Dorian smirk despite their terrible odds at getting out of there alive. Terrin made quick work of the fourth spider and Elena dropped to the ground, panting. He was at her side instantly._

_"Well, it's nice to meet both of you." Dorian quipped over his shoulder before a tendril of Meave's darkness reached out and slammed against his shield._

_"What's the plan, witchling?" Dorian asked as Manon moved closer to him, her focus on the wall of flame behind him, the one which kept Erawan busy for now._

_"We fight them now and end this one way or the other. Or we run and live to fight another day." Manon didn't seem partial to either choice, though he could sense the fear within her, especially as her eyes danced on the flames surrounding her captive for the last several centuries._

_"Elena is nearing a burnout." Terrin stated with concern, still holding on to her as she concentrated the last of her powers on Erawan. Dorian decided he liked Terrin, especially as a gentle hand graced his daughters face and healing magic soothed right through her, making her face glow lightly._

_Manon arched an unimpressed brow and Dorian wanted nothing more than to kiss her._

_"She's impressive…Elena, I mean." Dorian said softly to Manon, catching her attention away from their daughter. Her eyes flickered with something…love, he recognized…and her eyes turned molten._

_"She has so much of you." Was her response. It made his heart murmur in his chest._

_Suddenly, the world around them shook. The foundation beneath them coming apart in places as cracks appeared on the stone floor._

_"Shit!" Elena exclaimed, and Dorian expanded his shield to surround them all just in time as Erawan screamed in defiance and stepped out from between the white flames. His skin melted, peeling off bone and muscle as an ashen monster with red eyes stepped forwards._

_"We fight, Manon. And it ends tonight." Dorian decided, digging deep within his magic and readying himself for this final battle._

_"Elena lives." Manon whispered, her golden eyes boring into his as though looking for affirmation to her one and only condition._

_"Elena and Terrin both." Dorian confirmed with a nod._

_No matter what, they would ensure their daughtered lived. No matter what._

_"Then may the darkness claim us, princeling. Together." She said softly._

_"Together, witchling." Dorian confirmed. A flicker of emotion sparked in her eyes, before she turned away from him to face their enemy._

* * *

Abraxos jetted across the sky, faster than she'd ever ridden him before. As though he understood her sense of urgency and could sense the panic which threaten to bubble up from deep with her. Outwardly, Manon portrayed only determination as she hurried her mount towards Morath. The Yellowlegs would be in the near vicinity of Erawan's now destroyed keep, and she only had a vague sense of direction of where it would be. But it was enough to give her hope, and ride faster than the wind.

Half a dozen trained khagan riders and their wyverns followed somewhere behind her, though Abraxos was too fast for them to keep up. They would get there in time, she knew, especially for what she had planned.

The conversation with her great-grandmother still lingered in her mind, though. Before parting ways in the Ferian Gap, Glennis basically confronted Manon, and her words still echoed in her mind.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Her blue eyes bore into hers, her face calm and serene as always.

"Tell you what?" Manon asked, even though she knew what her great-grandmother meant. She turned to Abraxos, to avoid her great-grandmother's stare.

"That you think yourself barren." Manon stilled, then, and stopped fidgeting with the straps of Abraxo's saddle. She took a deep breath before facing Glennis again.

"I have never avoided children with Dorian." She stated simply, letting her unspoken words fill in the blank. Her great-grandmother's gaze turned compassionate before she stepped forward and brought a soft hand to her cheek.

"What do you fear Manon?" It was a bold question for her to ask, and a hard question for Manon to answer.

What  _did_  she fear?

"I don't know…" And Manon didn't. There were many lingering fears in her mind, but Cresseida spoke of one fear. One which she needed to let go…

"Before you face your enemy, great-granddaughter, I encourage you to face what, exactly, it is you fear." Glennis spoke calmly and wisely, and Manon knew not to dismiss her great-grandmother's words as frivolous but cautionary.

"I don't know what I fear the most." Manon tried not to let her annoyance show in her voice, but she knew Glennis could sense her frustration.

"We cannot lose two monarchs' in one night, Manon." Manon stilled, not expecting Glennis to say such a thing.

" _What_?" She questioned, understanding there was a deeper meaning to her great-grandmother's statement, feeling anger seethed within her.

"If you cannot destroy the ancient…you must save yourself." Glennis stated simply, objectively.

"If I cannot save Dorian, then I rather die." The words left her mouth so quickly, Manon didn't realize she'd even said them out loud. Her great-grandmother gave her a saddened smile, but a knowing one.

"So quick to choose death, Manon Queen of Witches? Or is it perhaps you  _fear_  to live." Her words were like a knife to her gut, and Manon couldn't think of anything else to say…was that what she feared the most? To  _live_?

Manon blinked herself back to the present, her eyes fixing on the only source of light in the black mountains now looming closer. The full moon above her shone brightly…except now the beginning of the Blood Moon could be seen, as the eclipse began to clip the brightness of the moon, like small bite.

Manon sent a prayer to the Three Faced goddess, and then she descended into the darkness of Morath.

* * *

Dorian stood in the battlement, his eyes fixed on the hundreds of hearths burning around the Witch-Castle. There would be a celebration of the Blood Moon by the witches, although those at the castle itself stood vigilant and weary of what the night could bring. They'd prepared as best they could; stationing the Adarlan guards along with witches and changed the normal rotating shifts to more atypical ones so no one could sense a pattern. They had even questioned the few Yellowlegs who'd joined the Witch-Kingdom since Erawan's defeat, but even this proved fruitless.

None of them knew anything, and Dorian didn't need Damaris to convince him they spoke truthfully.

Ansel had been warned of the imminent attack and had sent reinforcements from Briarcliff, the queen herself among them now on the battlement.

"I hope it's just one big party." Ansel stated from next to Petrah, her wine-red hair bound in a braid like that of the witches.

"It's a Blood Moon." Petrah responded, making Ansel frown and Bronwen nod.

"So?" Ansel questioned, clearly unimpressed with what this meant.

"The Blood Moon always claims a sacrifice." Petrah said just above a whisper, and Dorian didn't have to turn to her to know she looked at him now. They all did.

And so he stood there, watching the dancing flames of the coven's hearths, his magic ready to strike at any immediate threat. None of them spoke nor moved. They simply stared into the distanced and ignored as the full moon began to darken.

* * *

Glennis stood looking out one of the many balconies available at the castle in Rifthold and ignored as the many guards ran to and from, readying for battle. She'd brought the rest of the aerial fleet with her from the Ferian Gap so now two dozen khagans and their mounts stood ready to defend against any strike from the Yellowlegs and their wyverns. There were other witches in Rifthold as well, mostly Crochan's and they'd been quick in joining with their brooms and swords, ready to battle.

The city stood protected and ready. Healers from Yerene Westfall's school were also ready to help with any injured, stationed throughout the city in safe locations.

As soon as the bright full moon began to darken, the first battle cries were heard, and Glennis sent a whispered prayer into the wind before lifting her sword in a silent command. Hundreds of arrows flew across the sky directed at the significant host of wyverns approaching the city from the south. With the cover of darkness, they didn't see the arrows until it was too late for many of their sentinels. The Yellowlegs were quick to respond, though, breaking into smaller groups and spreading out.

"Wyverns in the air!" Glennis commanded, and the khagan's were quickly airborne…two dozen wyverns against what looked to be twice as many Yellowlegs.

The final stand of the Ironteeth.

* * *

Cresseida stared up at the darken sky above. There were no stars, and she couldn't see the moon from the gaping opening above her. This made her frown, as there was clearly something amidst…something  _wrong_.

The once-matron's robe bellowed as she hurried towards the table with the ancient map and stilled as soon as she came within view of it.

"The Blood Moon demands a sacrifice." The words echoed within the cave, but there was no one else there to hear them. No one she could warn.

" _The Blood Moon demands a sacrifice. The Blood Moon demands a sacrifice The Blood Moon Demands a sacrifice_ …" Cresseida couldn't stop repeating the words, each word bouncing off the cave walls, eerily reverberating into a crescendo…until the fading moon finally appeared through the gap in the roof of the cave as thick clouds parted away so Cresseida could finally see it.

"The Blood Moon demands a sacrifice." She repeated, and this time, there was no echo.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Blood Moon demands a sacrifice…but who?! Thank you for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

This chapter will be backwards. The original story first and the dream-world story last. As always, thank you for reading! Enjoy!

* * *

Dorian was growing a little bored of staring out into the celebration down below and could tell his companions felt the same. By now, the eclipse had claimed half the moon and nothing seemed to be amidst or out of the ordinary.

"What if we go down there? If there's indeed an attack, I might be of better use from within the fray." Dorian suggested, if only to be doing something else and to keep his mind preoccupied. If he were honest, he'd tell them he was starting to feel a deep exhaustion begin to overwhelm him. His mind felt groggy and sleepy and doing nothing wasn't helping this.

"I'm sure that's a terrible idea." Ansel answered, but seemed inclined to agree with him none the less. Apparently, she was bored, too.

"Absolutely not, Your Majesty." Bronwen stated firmly and Petrah arched a brow in a manner which suggested she agreed with her Crochan counterpart.

"But there's nothing happening…" He began to complain but was interrupted as there seemed to be movement in one of the hearths. They could hear shouting before a piercing scream echoed through the night, and then suddenly flames erupted from some of the still unfinished structures.

Then they saw them; hundreds of flaming arrows aimed not at the castle but at the population below.

* * *

Abraxos' mighty wings held them in the air, close enough to the cave entrance so the wind at their backs could carry Manon's scent directly into the enemy. Just as she expected, there seemed to be very few remaining Yellowlegs in the keep itself, as most had either been dispatched to Rifthold or the Witch Kingdom. Even with half of the moon now eclipsed, the remaining light was still bright enough for Manon to count just under a dozen wyverns take to the air.

At her command, Abraxo's dove down, banking at the last minute as though not to hit the rushing ground. He then maneuvered left before catching the updraft close to the mountain itself as Manon unstrapped herself. He leveled out and Manon petted him one last time before jumping off, landing on her feet before rolling forward with her momentum.

With a loud roar, Abraxos' flew higher and higher, calling the attention of the Yellowlegs riders before flying away from the mountain and the keep, and towards the rukhin riders who should be arriving soon.

Manon stared towards her loyal companion until she couldn't see him anymore as he blended into the night itself. It was then, when he was completely out of sight, that Manon could turn towards the mountain keep, her eyes fixing on the soft glow of light coming from the cave opening. She hurried as she climbed rock and hardened earth, often having to dig in her iron nails to keep from falling, until she made it to a narrow passageway close to the curve of the mountain. It led directly into the wide entrance of a large cave.

Hair braided and spilling over her shoulder, and wearing her fighting leathers, Wind-Cleaver strapped across her back… Manon Queen of Witches inched closer to the entrance of the cave to face her enemy. And to face her fear.

* * *

Glennis had to use a borrowed broom to take to the skies. The rukhin and their wyvern mounts were doing their job at keeping the Yellowlegs at bay, but they were having a difficult time striking down the sentinels. There were two Crochans flanking each rukhin mount but several of the Crochans had fallen or had to pull back due to injury. This left some of the khagan fighters exposed and Glennis immediately took to the skies to fill in the gaps.

The Adarlan soldiers only shot at any Yellowleg which managed to move past their ranks and already they'd taken out half a dozen sentinels with great aim and precision. They'd been trained well, most likely by the Hand of the King himself, she realized and was thankful for it.

"Hold the line!" She yelled as loudly as she could, and received curt nods from the rukhin riders and the Crochans alike. Additionally, there were three Bluebloods and two Blackbeaks who joined the fight with their wyverns, having been in Rifthold to delivery trade goods. These led the left flanks now.

The Yellowlegs had fallen back to regroup and Glennis had the distinct feeling they meant to deliver their final attack soon. And, while they had expected to cause great damage to the city below with their surprised attack, their lack of gains against the rukhin and united witches made them more dangerous now.

As she glanced up at the darkening moon, Glennis couldn't help as her chest tightened with the thought of her great-granddaughter…and the King she clearly loved.

* * *

The flaming arrows halted in mid air as Dorian sent out an invisible wall of air and flicked them away in the direction they came from while extinguishing their fire.

"We could have used some of that on our trip to Orynth…" Ansel mumbled under her breath, making Dorian smirk despite his fatigue. He shouldn't feel so tired from using so little of his magic, and yet it felt as though he'd been fighting for hours.

Wyverns were already in the air, going in the direction of where the arrows came from. It was then, when the majority of the wyverns and their riders where out of sight, that the real attack began.

Yellowlegs were dropped right on the battlement by flying wyverns five and six at a time, all hanging on to rope which had been tied to the large wyvern bulls. The sentinel riding the wyvern cut the rope, dropping the attacking witches right on the battlement and just feet away from Dorian and his companions. Swords were drawn immediately by the witches next to him as the attackers were too close for the Adarlan soldiers and the witches to fire arrows.

Dorian concentrated his magic on the flying wyverns, crushing them with invisible hands and sending a few of them down against the side of the castle, the witches hanging on to the ropes tumbling into a dark abyss along with the wyverns. He managed to do this three times before he had to pause to take a respite, feeling completely and utterly drained.

"Your Majesty?" Ansel questioned, standing next to him with her sword drawn. About ten Adarlan soldiers rushed forward in front of him while Petrah and Bronwen remained next to him, as the other witches and soldiers fought against the Yellowlegs. Dorian waved a hand as though to indicate he was fine, not trusting himself to speak yet as he felt so out of breath.

"They can't possibly think they'll win." Bronwen breathed, confused as the Yellowlegs were clearly too few to be a match for them.

"I don't think they mean to." Petrah's words sent a chill down Dorian's back. This was a suicide mission for these Yellowlegs, and they had no intensions of leaving the battlement alive.

* * *

Manon approached the entrance of the cave and the warm glow emanating through the otherwise blinding darkness. She could hear her heart drumming against her chest as she unsheathed Wind-Cleaver from her back. In the distance she could hear Abraxos's fighting roar as well as those of the other wyverns from both the ruhkin riders and the Yellowlegs.

Her grip on her sword was so tight, her iron nails dug into her skin. She took a second to take one last long breath before she charged into the cave, and came face to face with her enemy.

"I've been waiting for you,  _Majesty_." The Yellowleg spat the last word in clear and evident disdain. She stood ready just beyond the entrance of the cave, iron teeth bared through her mocking smile. Her iron nails were the longest and sharpest Manon had yet to see in battle. The witch looked older than Manon but was by no means a crone. Her dirty-blonde hair was tied back into a tight braid and her fighting leathers had clearly seen better days. It was the hard lines around her eyes which gave away her true age.

"Then you know why I come." Manon finally spoke as she took a careful step inside the cave, Wind-Cleaver drawn up preemptively. A quick glance around the cave didn't note anyone else, but there was a carved pathway just beyond the witch in front of her, and she suspected the ancient to be somewhere just beyond the cavern.

"You will be destroyed, Manon Kin-Slayer, and pay for your treason." The witch's venomous hatred poured from her words, augmenting the lines around her eyes and forehead.

"Who are you?" She demanded, ignoring the woman's scorn as she took another step within the cave. Manon didn't have much time left, as she knew the eclipsed moved across the moon, claiming most of in the darkness which would give way to the Blood Moon.

"I am Thana Yellowlegs. And from this day forward, I shall be known as Thana Queen-Slayer." She sneered, her iron teeth gleaming with wicket malice.

"Never heard of you." Manon retorted coolly, her tone even and unphased. She'd faced the three matrons at once before, one solitary witch would not get in the way of achieving her objective. This witch before her didn't know Manon…she was sure she'd never seen her before. Never heard of her. And yet that was pure determination in her eyes. This witch would not allow easy passage to Manon and looked ready to fight her until death claimed either of them.

"Why are you doing this?" Manon asked as she gleaned Wind-Cleaver closer to her chest and angled the blade horizontally.

"Because you are  _unworthy_  of your crown, Kin-Slayer! You are  _unworthy_  of being an Ironteeth, of calling yourself Queen of Witches!" Thana spat on the ground in contempt before bearing her teeth at Manon again. There was pure rage in the witch's eyes. Hate unmatched and untethered.

It was then, under the hatefully glare of this unknown witch, of the female whom would stand in her way and would fight until her last breath to strike her down…that Manon understood her true fear.

Hateful dark eyes stared at her, but it was sapphire ones which clung to her mind. Sapphire eyes, bright and powerful, clear and wise.  _Loving_  eyes…

"You made one very fatal mistake, Thana Yellowlegs." Manon took another step forward, her grip on her sword tight and ready. Thana bared her teeth as she took a defensive stance, bending her knees, iron nails raised.

But Manon no longer feared being unworthy and undeserving of being loved. Love, unequivocal and undeniable. She wasn't unworthy of the Thirteenth's sacrifice, as she'd so feared for the last two years. She wasn't unworthy of Glennis, Petrah, Bronwen and all the other witches in her kingdom's loyalty. Manon wasn't unworthy of having a family or being  _happy_. Truly happy. She wasn't unworthy of living, truly living. And she certainly wasn't unworthy of Dorian's love.

Manon refused to be afraid of this any longer.

"You shouldn't have messed with  _my_  mate." She professed out loud before she swung her sword and charged the witch who stood in her way.

* * *

Dorian used the last keg of his magic to contain the destructive blast of the Yellowlegs whom gave herself to the yielding, threatening to blast not just her fellow attackers, but a good chunk of those on the battlement. He used the last of his magic to contain the explosion within a small radius around the exploding witch, trapping most of the other attacking Yellowlegs with her so they would be destroyed with the dark blast of the yielding.

There remained chaos around him on the battlement, but Dorian could no longer keep himself upright and slid to the ground.

" _Your Majesty_ …" The words of one of the guards sounded long and distorted and Dorian had just enough energy to roll on his back, his eyes becoming heavy lidded as he stared at the disappearing moon. The eclipsed had almost claimed the entire brightness of the otherwise gleaming globe, and Dorian found he no longer had the strength to stay awake.

" _Dorian_!" Someone called his name in the distance, but he ignored it as he finally closed his eyes and drifted into a deep and dark slumber.

* * *

_"We have to get out of here!" Elena exclaimed as she stood with the help of Terrin, his arms wrapped around her to keep her upright._

_"You treasonous, ungrateful bitch!" Erawan screamed as he directed a tendril of darkness directly at Elena, so fast Dorian had almost no time to react. His magic reached with invisible hands, knocking Elena and Terrin out of the way in time to avoid the smear of Erawan's darkness. Where they had stood, a black stain remained, oozing a dark liquid which had Dorian's magic recoiling from it._

_Erawan's burning red eyes moved to Dorian then, and he knew the dark lord meant to unleash a lethal attack upon him. He readied his magic as Erawan took a step forward-he paused, eyes opening wide, wider as suddenly the tip of a sword protruded from where his heart would beat within his chest._

_Wind-Cleaver._

_Erawan chocked on a gasp as he fell to his knees, revealing Manon standing directly behind him, still holding on to the hilt of her sword. She drove the sword home, and more of Erawan's black blood gurgled from his chest and his mouth, running down his chin and chest to pool at the floor around him._

_"This sword has been charmed by a healer." Manon's words were barely a whisper as she explained what Dorian understood to be the reason for Erawan's shock. A mere sword could not harm him like this…but one enthralled by healing magic would be debilitating if not lethal._

_"You are vermin, the lowest sort of scum to ever have existed. And you are unworthy to_ live _." Manon pulled the sword out swiftly, and with the grace and speed of an immortal, she brought Wind-Cleaver across Erawan's exposed neck…_

_…His head tumbled on the stone floor, oozing black blood and grotesque charred bits of skin and muscle. Terrin quickly moved to the severed head and placed a hand on the burned flesh, his hands glowing with his magic. Dorian didn't wait for further instructions as he set the body ablaze again, until the burning white fire charged the remaining flesh to ash._

_His eyes locked with Manon for a heartbeat and in a couple of strides he'd crossed the length of the room to her. She dropped Wind-Cleaver to the floor as she wrapped her arms around his neck as their lips met…finally…after hundreds of years._

_He could feel something damp against his cheeks and lips…tears. Both his and Manon's._

_"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…." Dorian breathed between flurried kisses. He'd left Manon in a cold tent so he could find the third Wyrdkey and he failed. Meave had captured him and they'd ultimately lost the war. All their friends…everyone they'd cared about…they were gone._

_Manon responded to his apology by shushing him with her lips. He opened up to her, if just to enjoy her warmth one last time._

_When they pulled away from one another, Manon didn't waste a breath before she turned to Elena. To_ their _daughter…_

_"You must leave now." It wasn't a request, but a command._

_"I'm not leaving without you." Elena shook her head and whipped away the blood from her nostrils, smearing her cheek red._

_"Elena…" Manon warned with her tone, arching a fine brow._

_"You said we'd all leave here together!" Elena screamed before her voice broke into a sob. It made Dorian's chest ache. To hold the daughter he'll never get to know…_

_"You promised…" She hiccupped her words in a heartbreaking sob, one which made Dorian turn to Manon._

_"_ Elena _." A singular word, and in it, Manon said everything there was left to say and left unspoken. Elena reined in her tears until her sapphire eyes no longer gleamed with moisture._

_"May the darkness embrace you." Elena whispered before her gaze turned to Dorian._

_"You are just like she said you were. Like the sea…and a winter morning." A single tear slid down his daughter's cheek, and Dorian couldn't hold his own tears nor the smile which graced his lips as he spoke next._

_"You are a dream, Elena. Never forget you were made from love and hope. Never forget you are the daughter of the kings and queens of Erilea. And our greatest joy. We will never leave you." As he finished, he interwind his fingers with Manon's._

_"Now go. We will finish this fight." As he spoke the latter, the cocoon which had kept Meave at bay all this time began to shudder under the weight of her powers. Terrin ran to Elena's side, pulling her towards the exit just as the entire room began to shake. For they'd destroyed one evil ruler but there was another…a stronger one left._

_"Together?" Dorian asked, squeezing the hand holding Manon's._

_"Together." She answered simply before her other hand came to rest at his cheek. He leaned into her soft caress before they broke apart as Manon picked up her sword once again and Dorian faced the last of their tormentors._

_What happened next, happened so fast Dorian had no time to react as Meave slammed darkness, such as he'd never experienced before, directly on him. It was a weigh too heavy for him to lift, knocking him down so his head hit the stone floor hard. As everything blurred around him, all Dorian could think about was Manon, and all he could hear was her battle cry as she rushed the Valg queen with nothing but her sword and hundreds of years of resolve, and he imagined, the strength of a mother's unflinching will to save their child._

_Dorian prayed to the non-existing gods this would somehow be enough._

* * *

The Final battle has begun and the eclipse is almost complete! Who's sacrifice will the Blood Moon claim?


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long, but I hope you enjoy! Please know this chapter contains violence.

There is only a sliver of moon left, the rest consumed by the eclipsed.

_“The Blood Moon demands a sacrifice._

_A sacrifice freely given._

_For someone you love.”_

Cressedia’s words echoed through the cave, down the mountain, across the forest, through the wastes, over villages and through all of Erilea.

* * *

 

Wind-Cleaver swung in an arc, slicing the air as it missed the Yellowleg. Thana moved quickly, steady on her feet a she avoided Wind-Clever and in turn sliced at Manon with her sharp iron nails, drawing blue blood from her arm, and not for the first time. Manon immediately moved, bringing her sword down at an angle before pivoting to elbow the Yellowleg right on the nose.

There was a crack in the air and a growl from Thana as blue blood immediately gushed down her nostrils.

“You’ll pay for that!” She spat before she moved with predatory efficiency, one hand grabbing her throat while the other held her wrist of her sword hand.

“I don’t have time for this.” Manon half chocked half breathed as she struggled for air and ground, using her sword less hand to grip Thana’s hand at her throat, digging her iron nails into her skin. The Yellowleg wouldn’t budge, so Manon drew her strength and punched her on her bleeding face over and over until Thana stumbled backwards and released her grip enough for Manon to break free. Not wasting time, Thana kicked out, striking Manon on her wrist so Wind-Cleaver fell with a clatter to the ground.

Manon moved to take her sword, except a loud roar in the distance distracted her momentarily as she paused to ensure the screaming wyvern wasn’t Abraxos. Thana took the opportunity of her momentary distraction to attack, grabbing Manon by the nape of her neck and violently pushing her face first against the cave wall. Once, twice, thrice…

There was a crack inside Manon’s head that only she could hear, just as her head collided with the cave wall. Everything became distorted, her movements slugging as Thana Yellowlegs bashed her head over and over…

When she finally let go of her, Manon could feel herself falling to the ground, she could hear piercing wyvern screams in the distance, she could see as a drop of water fell from a stalactite to the cave floor, and for the first time, in the distance, she could hear the retched breathing of the ancient Yellowleg responsible for her mate’s impending doom.  

What Manon couldn’t do, was move. She felt paralyzed as her body refused to obey her commands to stand and instead laid curled on the floor, her iron nails digging into the cave floor as she struggled for air. She could hear Thana’s ragged breathing, as she picked up Wind-Cleaver from the ground. She could hear as her boots thundered across the cave floor, heading her way…

“You will die now, Kin-Slayer. The White-Demon no more. And you will die _alone_.” Thana promised as she neared.

 _Alone_. Without the Thirteen. Without her great-grandmother. Without Petrah and Bronwen, without Abraxos…without Dorian.

 _Dorian_. She needed to save Dorian! Her eyes drifted past the nearing witch, and past the cave opening, right to where the moon could be seen, almost completely swallowed by darkness now.

All at once, there was clarity within Manon again, as she remembered her purpose, and everything shifted back into place. She stayed down, though, curled up as if in defeat.

“Where are your Thirteen, _Majesty_? No one to come save you now!” Wind-Cleaver was raised as Thana spat her taunting words, she brought the sword down over her neck with the intension of decapitating her. Manon rolled at the last second, avoiding the sharp edge of her own sword, but leaving her braid behind to be sliced through. The sword missed her by hairsbreadth.

“Argh!” Thana screamed in rage, kicking Manon just as she rolled over again, sending her flying on her back. Thana raised Wind-Cleaver over her head and meant to rush at her when she suddenly paused, eyes open wide in shock. Blue blood sprayed across Manon’s face as she hurried to a stand, iron nails out defensively.

“Her Majesty is _not_ alone.” A voice echoed through the cave chamber, a voice she knew but couldn’t recognize until Thana dropped to her knees, an arrow head protruding straight through her heart, and revealing the man who stood at the cave entrance.

Chaol, Hand of the King of , former Adarlan, former Captain of the Guards…Dorian’s brother in arms and best friend.

Manon had never been more grateful to see him before in her life, and she was sure her face reflected this as her eyes locked with Chaol’s.

“Go, Manon. Save Dorian.” He signaled behind her with his head, to the dark shaft that would lead to the Yellowlegs ancient. He promptly readied another arrow as he carefully neared the kneeling Yellowleg, expertly aiming at her head. Manon quickly moved to grab Wind-Cleaver from where it’d been dropped last by Thana.  

Her gold eyes crossed with the Yellowlegs, giving her pause for a mere second. Thana Yellowlegs had been formidable, but she lacked exactly what she was trying to change about witches, what she wanted the Witch-Kingdom to be. Thana Yellowlegs held no hope in her eyes and no love in her heart. And Manon pitied the witch for it.

Without wasting another breath, she ran down the dark shaft, her now jagged and mostly shoulder length hair falling over her face as she flew like a wyvern riding the winds.

* * *

 

Petrah held the line with the Adarlan soldiers and witches, as they were rushed by the last group of Yellowlegs. The King had fallen into a deep and unbreakable slumber, and currently Ansel and Bronwen worked to get Dorian off the battlement.  

“The moon is almost gone!” A Yellowlegs could be heard screaming over the chaos, and Petrah feared this was a signal for whatever they had in store as a last stand.

“Rush them now, now, now!” Petrah ordered, her voice piercing above the echoes of the dying and injured, and the clashing of swords and iron nails and teeth. It was now or never, she knew. Especially as the last sliver of moonlight was disappearing…

“Petrah!” She heard someone yell her name in warning--Bronwen, she realized. And quickly turned in time to avoid a knife being driven right through chest, though she wasn’t fast enough to avoid the slash of iron nails to her face.  Petrah cried out in pain but didn’t have time to think about her injury as she was locked into nail to nail combat with the attacking Yellowleg.

“Treasonous bitch!” The Yellowlegs spat as she attacked her with nothing but untethered hate and suicidal resolve. Petrah kept losing ground until she was backed against the wall of the battlement.

“I will slice you in pieces!” The witch promised, her iron teeth gleaming as the last of the moonlight disappeared altogether.

* * *

Glennis could see as the Yellowlegs began their final attack, rushing through the air in battle cries and roars, but they were no match for the rukhin as they rammed right through the lines of the attacking witches and mounts. They’d been trained by Manon, and the formation was unmistakably one the Thirteen used in battle victoriously before their sacrifice. It had pained Manon to teach the maneuver, and now it could be the decisive factor in their victory.

The Crochan’s, Glennis included, followed at blazing speeds, aiming unfaltering arrows at the Yellowlegs sentinels as they scattered, unable to hold the lines as the rukhin rammed them through, dispersing them into smaller groups which were quickly picked off by the remaining wyvern and their riders, and the Crochans on their brooms.

When the threat was contained to various pockets of Yellowlegs survivors, Glennis gave the signal to call off the attack, otherwise, it’d be a massacre of the remaining Yellowlegs.

“To the castle!” She ordered, yelling loud over the wind. She paused long enough to look over her shoulder at the disappearing moon, the light almost entirely consumed by the eclipse. Her great-granddaughter had mere seconds at best.

As she meant to turn on her borrowed broom, the heavy wings of a bull flapped mightily in front of her, blocking her path as the giant maw, bloodied and reeking of death, opened to swallow Glennis whole. She had a millisecond to react, and began to tug at her broom when a thought flared in her mind…

The Blood Moon demanded a sacrifice.  A sacrifice, like the Thirteen had done. A sacrifice for her great-granddaughter. Her Queen, who brought all the witches’ home. A sacrifice freely given.

No, Glennis didn’t move. But she yelled into the wind, a battle cry worthy of a song.

* * *

 Manon raced through the dark passage, feeling as every step echoed and thundered within her head. Up ahead, she could see another cave opening and a fire burning, illuminating the cavern. An ancient, much like the Yellowlegs crone she’d beheaded, sat alone. Evidently, Thana had been her only protection left on the keep.

The ancient’s eyes were open but unseeing, completely glossed white with no pupils that Manon could perceive. She didn’t waste time in observing any more details as she leaped over the fire, Wind-Cleaver gleaming….as she landed, she brought her sword across the ancients exposed neck, and sent her head flying over the edge of the cave and into the dark oblivion below.

Manon ignored the twitching body as she gleaned over the edge of the precipice and into the night.

Just then, the moon turned completely dark as the last sliver of light was swallowed by the eclipse. Darkness reined, and even the flames of the fire behind her withered and hissed, extinguished by the consuming darkness. There was nothing but her ragged breathing and her thundering heartbeat, until suddenly the moon appeared again, but this time, basked in red.

“The Blood Moon.” Manon whispered into the night and sent a prayer to the Three Faced goddess that she wasn’t too late.  

* * *

_“Dorian!” His name was called in a panic, and so Dorian dropped what he was doing so he could hurry to Manon’s side. She sat on their large and canopied bed, her moon-white hair falling over her shoulders and face as she glanced down at the babe in her arms. There was concern in her eyes as she looked up to him._

_“What’s wrong?” He asked, his heart racing madly within his chest._

_“It’s Elena.” She breathed, turning their weeks-old daughter in her arms so he could see her._

_“What’s wrong?!” Dorian readied his healing magic, afraid but ready for the worst as he neared the bed._

_“Her eyes!” Manon almost squealed, and Dorian could only frown in confusion._

_“Her eyes were sapphire and then she looked up at me and they turned gold!”  Manon looked horrified, and it if wasn’t for the scare she’d just given him, he would have chuckled at her reaction. Very first-time motherly of her._

_“She’s a shifter, like daddy.” Dorian pointed out as he took Elena into his arms, cooing his daughter lovingly. She had a tuff of midnight-black hair and instead of sapphire eyes, she now held his gaze with golden ones._

_“You’re just full of gifts, aren’t you Elena?” He asked his baby daughter before placing a soft kiss on her soft forehead. When his eyes met Manon’s, she looked placid, serene even as she beheld him and their daughter._

_They shared as mile._

_Then, her face turned to one of horror as blood began to seep from her mouth down her chin. She tried to speak, but blood gurgled in her mouth, rendering her speechless…. her hands drifted to her stomach, where blue blood was now staining her white dress…their eyes locked again._

_Dorian stood horrified at both the sight of Manon and as the baby in his arms turned to ash and then crumbled into the air. Into nothing but specks of dust._

_He tried to scream but nothing came out, he had no voice. He tried to move but his body wouldn’t respond to his commands. He could only watch as the bed Manon sat on caught fire, engulfing her in mere seconds until she too, was only ash._

_“Dorian!” It was Manon’s voice, but this couldn’t be as she was burning in front of him, now nothing more than ashes. He could only shake his head in agony, unable to move nor scream._

_“_ Princeling _.” It was Manon’s voice again…_

_“Princeling listen to me. Follow my voice.” The voice echoed in the room until he could no longer see a burning bed or the white of the walls._

_Suddenly, he was back in Earwan’s keep, kneeling on the stone floor in front of the throne of bones, his forehead pressed against the hard, cold floor._

_“There you are…” He turned to look at Manon as she spoke, a pale hand over his as she knelt next to him, something dark smeared around her lips. There was a river of blue blood pooling on the stone floor, and he followed the trail to where she held her stomach with her other hand._

_“Manon--”Dorian began to speak as he realized she was badly injured, but she shushed him as she glanced behind them at the Valg queen who stood clutching Wind-Cleaver.  There was black blood running down Meave’s face and neck, where a bite could be seen, and which explained the black blood on Manon’s face, though now her iron teeth were retracted._

_“You will both pay for this.” Meave looked feral as she wiped away black blood from her cheek._

_“I will find your daughter and that last healer, and I will make them my prisoners for all eternity.” She seethed with the promise of her words as she neared them, taunting Dorian as he felt her trying to penetrate his mental shields again. Manon grunted with pain and Dorian mustered the lasts of his physical strength to right himself so he could hold Manon in his arms one last time. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed one of his hands over the deep, gushing wound of her stomach._

_“This is it, princeling.” Manon clutched his hand, squeezing with the remainder of her strength. Dorian pressed his lips into her temple and breathed her in one last time._

_“Urgh. Really, husband? How rude of you.” Meave teased with malice, now just a couple of feet away from them._

_“I am_ not _your husband. And there’s only one witch queen for me, and you are not it!” And with that, Dorian unleashed the last of his magic, but not into a blast or into burning fire, but directly into Meave’s mind, clutching her thoughts in an iron grip. With everything he had left. He burned through his magic reserve and felt the tang of iron as he neared his burn out._

 _“Now, Manon.” He held on to her, burying his head into her hair as she summoned the last of_ her _powers, and the only form of magic in a witch’s arsenal. The Yielding._

_Light, not darkness, surrounded them. Light, pure and white…bright as the burning sun._

_A soft hand caressed his cheek and Dorian opened his sapphire eyes one last time to look into golden ones. Time slowed…for an instant. As he took her in, her last breath feathering his skin and he gifted her his last heartbeat._

_As the world exploded around them, and they were consumed by a magnificent pure light, Dorian could only see Manon._

_Light claimed them, not darkness, destroying Meave, destroying Erawan’s keep, and annihilating the remaining darkness in all of Erilea._


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, but life happens! Next chapter will be the last.

Manon rode with the wind, thankful for the small blessing. There were five of the rukhin flying behind her, though she could no longer see them when she turned back to look, the rest having gone back to report and rendezvous with Glennis as she made her way back from Rifthold… _if_ everything went according to plan with her great-grandmother.

Chaol flew with one of the rukhin’s, insisting he didn’t want to slow Manon down. She’d only insisted halfheartedly to take him with her and was grateful for Chaol’s refusal. Abraxos knew of her urgency and didn’t stop to rest nor eat as they made a journey that should have taken days, at least three, into just under two days.

“Thank you.” She’d whispered to her most loyal friend and companion as they landed on the battlement. He was exhausted, and she would make sure someone tended to him at once.

It was clear from the evidence left on the battlement, and the one she could see from the air as she’d neared with Abraxos, that the Witch castle had been under attack. There were dark markings along the stone which suggested explosions had taken place. Yielding’s, Manon realized. The dark remains of the blast would be impossible to remove, no matter how hard a young witch, which was on her knees, brush in hand, scrubbed at the stain. She’d paused in her scrubbing to look up at Manon, eyes open wide.

“Make sure someone tends to Abraxos, immediately.” Manon said softly, her exhaustion evident in her voice.  

It was just before sunrise, and the sky was beginning to show signs of pink over the horizon. There was a clatter of feet and robes, of swords and helmets as witches and Adarlan guards alike neared from the arched gateway and onto the battlement. Petrah’s icy blue eyes were opened wide as they found Manon’s. There was a deep slash across her cheek that had yet to heal properly and would probably leave a permanent mark, but otherwise she looked unharmed.

“Your Majesty.” She breathed as she neared, the look she held unreadable to Manon.

Manon felt her heart beat faster and faster within her chest as she came closer to Petrah.

“Where is he?” She asked. She didn’t need to elaborate on whom she meant.  

Someone else made their way from the back of the small group until she reached the front and came to stand next to Petrah.

Bronwen.

“Glennis?” Her cousin asked, alarm and concern in her eyes as she looked for evidence of anyone else whom might have come with Manon.

“I didn’t see her in the skies on my way here. But she might still be on her way from Rifthold.” Manon’s voice was raspy as this had been the most she’s spoken in nearly two days. There was a sort of panic in Bronwen’s face that Manon could not recognize nor understand. Her eyes flickered to Petrah…what weren’t they telling her?

Petrah visibly swallowed, her features grave.

“Where is he…” Manon’s voice was deathly thin as she took a tentative step forward.

“This way.” Petrah gestured inside the keep, and the witches and guards made a column at either side of the entrance to allow her through.

“He’s in your rooms.” Bronwen said as she fell into step behind Manon and Petrah, her voice just as grave as Petrah’s features. There was a ringing in her ears now, and Manon felt as dread worked its way through her entire body, making her hands clammy and her throat dry.

“Does he breathe?” She finally found the courage to ask.

“Dorian breathes.” Bronwen started…

“But he won’t wake.” Petrah finished.

* * *

Manon entered the room to find Ansel sleeping on a chair next to the bed, her head resting on the mattress. She awoke with the noise of them filing into the room, her groggy eyes widening as she took in Manon’s appearance.

“You’ve seen better days.” The human queen commented and offered a small smile in what Manon could interpret as a genuine relief of seeing her alive. Her eyes danced along Manon’s now short hair, and she pressed her lips in what looked to be approval of her new haircut.

As Manon’s eyes shifted from Ansel to the sleeping form under the sheets, everyone in the room did the same.

Dorian laid on the bed, his eyes closed, lips slightly parted. She could see his chest raising and falling with each breath.

“He’s been like this since just before the Blood Moon.” Ansel explained, coming to stand and offering her seat to Manon.

“Just before the eclipsed swallowed the moon and gave way to the Blood Moon, I heard whispers of my mother.” Petrah revealed, coming to stand where Manon could see her from her peripheral view.

“ _The Blood Moon demands a sacrifice. A sacrifice freely given_.” Petrah recited the words.

“For someone you love.” Manon finished for Petrah, somehow knowing this was the verse which followed. Perhaps she’d heard Cresseida’s foretelling too as the words echoed in her mind. Had she gotten this all wrong? Did she fail in freeing Dorian because she didn’t truly sacrifice _everything_ for him?

“I failed.” Manon whispered.

And then, to the surprise of those in the room…Petrah, Bronwen and Ansel, Manon dropped to her knees, her forehead coming to the floor in front of her as she keeled over with exhaustion, fear and heartache.

“I failed…” The words reverberating through her very being.

There were tears running down her cheeks; tears of anger and range, tears of heartbreak and sorrow. Her fists closed as she pounded on the stone floor.

Manon didn’t give everything.

Why didn’t she give _everything_?

* * *

Chaol arrived to find both guards and witches give him grave looks as he dismounted the large wyvern bull. The rukhin rider looked just as tired as he felt. They’d realized early on that they would never catch up to the High Queen of the Witches as they set out from the Yellowlegs lair to the Witch Kingdom. It was well past midday and he was tired and sore from riding through the night.

“Your Grace!” One of the guards stepped forward, having recognized him. Chaol nodded to the guard and took in the scene on the battlement.

“Report.” He barked the words as more of the guards moved to him, the one in charge stepping forward. Islan, he recognized the guard, took off his helmet and tucked it under his arm as he faced Chaol.

“The Witch castle was attacked. The witches, the Yellowlegs, they began to Yield but His Majesty used his magic to control the blasts. But before the moon was completely eclipsed, he fell into a deep slumber. He hasn’t woken since. The witches and queen Ansel have been tending to him, but he’s been refusing any liquids, my lord. Her Majesty arrived at dawn and is now with him.” Islan finished his report and stepped back.

“Casualties?” Chaol asked and dreaded the answer.

“Eight, my lord. Six witches and two Adarlan guards. The witches were in the thick of it, lady Petrah almost suffered a death blow herself, but lady Bronwen was able to get to her in time.”

Chaol nodded sharply, somewhat surprised how Islan reported of the witch’s losses as though they were their own. “I will personally see to the families of those lost.”

The guard saluted Chaol but a shout interrupted any further questions.

“Wyverns are coming!” A guard signaled over the wall of the castle.

“It’s probably the squadron who left for Rifthold.” Islan voiced his own suspicions.

“Take me to the queen.” Chaol wanted to see Dorian.

Chaol had never been overly fond of Manon, and had thought Dorian had lost his senses as he’d pursued the queen of witches beyond the aftermath of the war. But by now, Chaol had understood that their bond went beyond Erawan’s and Meave’s shadow, and the Thirteen’s sacrifice had cleaved something in Manon that only Dorian seemed to heal. He’d seen it when neither thought anyone was looking, as they shared longing looks and hidden smiles.

Chaol had seen as his brother fell deeper in love with the witch in the last two years…and after seeing Manon conquer their enemies to save Dorian, he finally understood that Manon had fallen much the same.

He just hoped she hadn’t been too late.

* * *

Manon had ordered everyone out of the room and now sat on the chair Ansel had been using to guard over the sleeping king. She’d at least washed the grim and blood from her exhausted body and changed into a simple beige dress, the sleeves long and flowy as the Crochans preferred them. She’d caught a glance in the mirror and knew the shorter hair would need some getting used to, but she didn’t immediately hate how it looked on her, despite the jagged and uneven angles. It was a battle wound, one worth having if only the sleeping king before her would wake.

In the time she’d been staring at him, he hasn’t even stirred once.

Slowly, and with her eyes never leaving Dorian’s face, she stood up and crawled on the bed until she laid next to him. Closing her eyes, she drank in the smell of him…of fresh fallen snow somehow intertwined with the sea breeze. Tentatively, she ran her index finger over his chapped lips—dry as they’d been unable to help him drink water while he slumbered so deeply. No matter how strong he was or how magical, he wouldn’t last much longer without nourishment, she knew.

Manon replaced her index finger with her lips, kissing the slumbering king.

“Come back to me.” She demanded of him yet her voice was barely louder than a whisper.

Dorian didn’t stir nor rouse. His chest raising and falling as it had since she’d walked in.

“I beg you, Dorian…” She plead now while her hand caressed his stubby cheek and she briefly wonder how he’d look with a full beard. Manon laid her head down next to him and wrapped her arms around his chest protectively.

Hopefully, if the goddess willed it, they would either _both_ wake together…

….or never wake up at all.

* * *

_Elena was on her knees, forehead pressed against the frigit ground as a heart wrenching sob escaped from her very soul._

_They stood just feet away from the dark void that had once been Morath. There was nothing left as the entire mountain side had been cleaved, only leaving endless rubble down the base of the mountain and no sign of Erawan’s keep. Creatures created by the monster she’d been forced to call father for so long… as well as those possessed with rings or collars, had collapsed._

_Terrin sat on his knees, his hand on Elena’s back. She knew he meant the gesture as reassurance, to let her know he was there. That he wasn’t leaving her. After some time, when her sobs died down to hiccups, Elena was able to sit back on her heels, her now sapphire eyes once again seeking out the void that was left in the wake of Morath’s destruction._

_“She lied to me. She promised we’d all leave together…” Elena managed to say, her words sounding hollow to her._

_“She did what any mother would do. She saved you. They both did. You parents saved us both.” Terrin insisted, his hand never leaving her back._

_Her parents. They were both dead, now._

_“My mother always told me I was born with my father’s eyes, not hers. That when I finally saw him, I would be able to remember what my eyes truly looked like.” Elena turned her sapphire eyes away from Morath until she found Terrin’s face. He moved his hand to her cheek, caressing her skin softly, his own eyes lined with the silver of his unfallen tears._

_“Did you see how much they loved each other?” Fresh tears ran down her cheeks as Terrin nodded._

_There was a sudden breeze then, caressing her face and blowing her dark tresses over he shoulders. It smelled of the sea and freshly fallen snow with a tang of iron and earth mixed together. Elena breathed in deeply, her eyes closing…and she could see them, her parents. They lay together in bed, her mother’s arm wrapped around her father’s chest, both in a deep sleep._

_When Elena opened her eyes, she smiled and her tears were now of joy._

_Her parents were together again…and this time, for all eternity._

* * *

There was a bright, blinding light which was then followed by _nothing_.

It wasn’t a blind nothing but more of a vacuum nothing. It felt hollow around him, as though he was floating, and he couldn’t open his eyes. He couldn’t move, either, try as he might.

“ _Come back to me_.” He heard a familiar voice say.

He willed himself to open his eyes, to move his arms and legs, but he felt nothing beyond the void around him.

“ _I beg you, Dorian_ …” The familiar voice reminded him of his name.

He was Dorian Havilliard, king of Adarlan.  And the familiar voice belonged to Manon Blackbeak-Crochan, High Queen of the Witch Kingdom. The woman he loved.

 “WAKE UP!” Someone yelled from beyond the void…or was it his own voice shouting within his head?

“ _Open your eyes, Dorian_.” A calmer voice said….

…And Dorian opened his eyes.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter is finally here! I hope you enjoyed reading this story!!

He felt a sense of awareness first, followed by the sound of a bird calling in the distance…not a bird, a wyvern, he realized, after hearing a familiar returning call. He felt as though floating in the air, until the prickling of his skin alerted him to the firm bed beneath him. A soft exhale caressed his face, and he became aware of a warm presence lying next to him. His eyelids felt heavy but he opened his eyes.

Gold eyes met sapphire blue.

Manon slowly blinked a couple of times, as though to make sure this was real before a hand came to rest over his cheek. Her lips parted just so and liberated a soft breath of relief.

“Dorian.” His name from her lips. It was the sweetest sound.

Dorian tried to speak but felt as his voice failed him, his throat too dry. In fact, when he tried to move, he found he couldn’t as much as lift his hands. Manon instantly sat up and poured water into a cup before slowly bringing it to his lips, urging him to swallow slowly. After downing the entire content of the wooden cup, he once again tried to move his hands, this time he was able to grasp the fabric of her dress, right over her forearm.

“Manon.” He managed to whisper her name, causing a reaction he never expected from the Queen of Witches. Manon closed her eyes tightly before opening them again, revealing tears. But not of sorrow…these were tears of joy. She half laughed half sobbed before throwing herself over him, crushing him with her immortal strength as she buried her face in the crook of his neck.

Dorian wanted to offer one if his trademark remarks, perhaps alluding to how Manon couldn’t live without him, but her crushing embrace and the moisture now trickling down his neck from her shedding tears deterred him from doing so. Finding more of his strength, he was able to wrap his arms around the woman he loved—and breathed in her scent before planting a firm kiss on the side of her head. Manon pulled away so she could stare down at him, her now shoulder length hair falling forward over her cheeks. Dorian moved to remove a strand, tucking it behind her ear before wiping some of her tears with his thumb.

“You saved me, didn’t you?” Dorian asked, though he knew the answer. Manon broke the curse.

“It wasn’t just me.” Manon confessed, her eyes dancing to the foot of the bed. Dorian followed her stare and found Chaol sitting on a chair, lightly drooling on the mattress where his head lay. Beyond Chaol, he could appreciate as Bronwen’s head laid on Petrah’s shoulder, who’s head laid on Ansel’s shoulder, who’s head was leaning against the side of the wall. All three were sprawled on the floor.

Dorian smiled widely but then slightly frowned as he noticed someone missing.

“Glennis?” He asked, and Manon’s eyes became glossy again. Before she could speak, the doors to the room opened, causing Chaol, the two witches and Ansel to all jerk awake.

Dorian couldn’t immediately see who’d come in as he was still unable to sit up. He couldn’t quite read Manon’s expression, either. Her fingers curled around his wrist, squeezing a bit tighter than she perhaps intended. Chaol stood, his eyes opened wide as he looked to the door. Then he looked to Dorian, their eyes meeting, and he could physically see as Chaol had to keep control of his emotions as not to unravel. Such was his relief.

“My King.” He breathed, tears stinging his eyes. This caught Bronwen’s, Petrah’s and Ansel’s attention and they soon joined Chaol at the foot of the bed. The latter lightly shifted, extending a hand to someone whom then came into view.

Yrene Westfall.

Dorian’s smile spread as he observed the people who surrounded the bed. His extended family. He turned to look to Manon and his smile died as soon as he saw her face. Her hand still held his wrist and her eyes were fixed on the opened door.

***

Manon’s heart skipped a beat as she stared at the open door.

Up until this point, she’d been almost certain she’d lost not one, but two people she cared for deeply. Because in her haste and desperation to save Dorian, she might have sent her closest living relative to the grave. Cresseida’s curse hadn’t really sunk in until the hours weaned and her great-grandmother was still not back.

The curse demanded a sacrificed freely given by someone she loved.  

And now, Glennis stood at the door of her room. Safe and sound.

“Glennis.” It was Bronwen who first spoke, relief in her eyes and a smile on her lips.

Manon’s eye locked with those of her great-grandmother, and there was pride and something else, edged in her stare. Manon couldn’t keep her emotions in check anymore, and wanted to hate herself for the tears which now slid down her cheek. And yet, as she looked around those in the room, Manon felt and understood that it was alright for her to _feel_. She wasn’t unworthy of Bronwen’s, Petrah’s and Ansel’s friendship; she wasn’t unworthy of Chaol’s loyalty and sense of responsibility; Yrene had always been Manon’s favorite person back in Rifthold and perhaps one day she’d tell the healer as much; and she definitely was worthy of her great-grandmother’s admiration and of Dorian’s love.

The Thirteens sacrifice had not been in vein. Her parents sacrifice had not been in vein.

“Healer.” Manon called to Yrene as a small smile crept on her face.

“Would you mind working some of your magic on my mate? He looks worse than my new haircut.” She quipped and there was a moment of pause as everyone unpackaged what she said. First, because she called Dorian her mate, finally admitting what they all knew and understood to be true, and secondly, because Manon made a _joke_.

Dorian was the first to burst out into laughter, followed by everyone else. Soon, they were all openly jabbing at each other, sharing tales of what took place in the day’s past, as most sat on the bed or chairs surrounding it. They spoke of Petrah’s near death encounter with a Yellowleg and how Bronwen had saved her; how Glennis almost got eaten by a wyvern but a ruhkin rider came to her aid in the very last second; how Chaol saved Manon in the nick of time from Thana Yellowlegs. Then Dorian told them the story of their other selves, of their daughter Elena and the last healer of Erilea, Terrin. As he spoke of their sacrifice, no one could help the tears and sniffles.

“We beat the darkness. Together.” Dorian finished as he looked directly into her eyes.

“If we have a daughter, her name shall be Elena.” Manon declared, not looking away from Dorian’s intense stare.

“When, you mean.” Dorian corrected her before taking her hand in his before bringing it to his lips for a soft, tender kiss.

“ _When_ …” Manon repeated. And knew it to be true with all her heart.

***

Glennis stood on the battlement, her eyes set on the horizon right where the blue of the ocean met the blue of the sky. Petrah came to join her, Bronwen not far behind. They’d become inseparable, Glennis realized with a small smile. Sisters in all the ways that counted. Ironteeth and Crochan no more.

Glennis smile died then as Petrah’s deep blue eyes settled over hers questioningly, reminding her of why she’d asked her here in the first place.

“There was something which plagued me. Your mother’s words…” She began but Petrah stopped her by placing a hand on her shoulder.

“I know.”

“You know?” She questioned, eyes slightly furrowing.

“There had to be a sacrifice freely given. And we’re all here, aren’t we?” Petrah swallowed her emotions, her eyes dancing around the battlement just so she didn’t have to stare at Glennis.

“She sacrificed herself for you, Petrah.” Glennis took the younger witch’s hand in hers and squeezed. Glennis had seen as much, having stopped at Cresseida’s lair before making her way back to the Witch Kingdom with Yrene Westfall and the rest of the ruhkin riders.

The last remaining matron had set herself on fire, right underneath the gaping hole of her cave, presumably looking up at the eclipsing moon as she burned away into ash.

“She’s joined the Three Face Goddess, earning her place amongst the stars.” As Glennis spoke, Petrah finally shed the tears she’d desperately been holding, nodding in agreement.

“My mother saved us all.” She said through tears and a pride-filled smile.

“Yes, my child. Yes, she did.” And they both turned to the horizon, to the line where blue meets blue.

~~~*** ~~~

_Elena stared at the map before her, eyeing the various markings with scrutiny as she made up her mind._

_“It looks…_ good _.” And no one was more surprise than herself for saying it._

_“It’s perfect, actually.” She breathed out almost inaudibly before her hand came to rest on the round of her growing belly. The old man whom been tasked with making the map breathed a sigh of relief as he bowed before taking his leave. He wasn’t afraid of her, but Elena had indeed created a reputation for being a perfectionist, especially when it came to anything related to rebuilding Erilea once again. Maps would be instrumental as humanity continued to rebuild itself after almost total destruction._

_Initially, after her parents had sacrificed themselves to save them all, Elena and Tarrin suspected there would be very few humans left on the continent. But they’d been wrong. Thousands upon thousands had survived…barely, but they endured even through the hardest of times. The lands of the old…Terrasen, Adarlan, Doranelle…those names meant nothing to the survivors now. But maps where a key to uniting men, fae, witch and any magical being which survived over a hundred years of Erawan’s and Meave’s cruel and unrelenting rule._

_There will be more trade, more connection between those scattered…to finally bring all of Erilea together._

_A soft smile graced Elena’s face as she felt the baby kicking, and a breeze of sea and fallen snow, interwind with iron and the warmth of the sun--blew past her. Terrin appeared then, his naturally narrowed eyes assessing her wellbeing before planting a kiss on her cheek. Elena pretended to glare at him for being so affectionate with others around, but as he placed his hand over her growing belly and the baby immediately kicked, she could only smile._

_It was a new world indeed._

_***~~~****_

Dorian awoke with a smile on his face, which only brightened further as his arm wrapped around the warm witch sleeping next to him. He buried his faced in the crook of her neck, inhaling the witch’s scent before planning a kiss over her soft skin. Manon stirred and mumbled something incoherent before elbowing him not too gently. Dorian ignored her protests and continued to assault her neck and shoulder with fluttering kisses, his hand now sliding up the short of the shirt she wore as a nightgown (his shirt). Her skin pebbled with his touch, and Dorian couldn’t help the grin as his fingers lightly traced her hips, then dipped to her lower belly…

He’d meant to go further south, except something—a flash of warmth, of something foreign yet familiar, interwind with a though, an image of sorts. There was warmth and a soothing, thudding heartbeat.

Dorian stilled, unsure of what he’d just felt, his hand now resting fully over her belly, ignoring the jagged scar which had been bestowed on her by her now dead grandmother.

“Princeling?” Manon questioned through groggy eyes, her brows furrowed slightly as she turned herself over so she could stare up at him properly. She’d been so tired in the last week, but Dorian had assumed it had to do with all the rebuilding back in the Witch Kingdom, and then her unplanned trip to Adarlan to visit him. The previous night, she’d winced as he’d massaged her breasts, claiming they were sensitive…of course, Dorian had used it as an excuse to replace his hand with his tongue, but now…

“Yesterday, when you arrived. There was something you wanted to tell me.” He vaguely remembers her saying something as he’d brought his lips to hers, so raptured by her arrival, he didn’t let her speak. And now he wondered if it had anything to do with what he’d just felt.

Manon yawned and stretched her legs before coming to a sitting position. She arranged the pillows behind her and didn’t turn to him until she was sitting comfortably.

She made to speak, but Dorian stopped her with a kiss.

He knew exactly what she was going to say.

***

Manon had ridden to Adarlan as soon as she found out. It was by accident, as Glennis was teaching some young witches how to use crystals to tell the sex of an unborn child. As the crystal dangled from a long gold chain, Glennis allowed for it to swing as it willed.

“If it runs in a circle like this…” She demonstrated, “It’s a girl. If it runs back and forth…” But the crystal would not go back and forth as intended. It ran in a circle, even as Glennis stopped manipulating the string. Their eyes had locked and Manon knew exactly what it meant.

Now, as she looked into Dorian’s bright sapphire eyes, after giving her a rather thorough kiss, she knew he knew as well.

“H-how far along?” He was finally able to ask after a couple of failed attempts as his mouth gaped and closed. 

“I’m not sure. Perhaps Yrene will be able to tell me.” She admitted. It hasn’t been three months since the Yellowlegs defeat, so it had to be recent. And Dorian had needed a couple of weeks to recuperate from his lack of sleep and almost death caused by the Yellowlegs’ curse, before they coupled again.

“Perhaps just over a month or two at most.” She explained, believing this to be the case. Dorian’s smile only widens before his hand came to rest over her belly, his fingers lightly gracing the fabric of the shirt she wore.

“I’m thinking…a small ceremony in the Witch Kingdom, presided by Glennis, of course. Then, a week long procession, which will include a parade of wyverns, before a grand ceremony. Everyone from all the kingdoms will be here…” Dorian’s eyes became distant and Manon could only frown further in confusion.

“What?” She questioned, unsure of what he spoke of and how it related to her being pregnant.

“Well, we have to officially marry, of course.”  

“No, we don’t.” She was quick to counter, except he pretended not to hear her as he scoots her closer to him, until she was forced to press her hands against his chest, both of them now on their knees.

“Then, we’ll go on our honeymoon. Perhaps Abraxos can fly us somewhere far away, just the two of us.” He pecks her lips…once, twice…

“Or…we could just go on the honeymoon, skip all the celebrations.” Manon countered while her hands began to caress the span of his bare chest, across his pectorals, then down his abs…

“ Oooorrr….we could have the hearth ceremony and then one, teeny-tiny one here…” Dorian quickly countered before pursing his lips and blinking rapidly as though giving her begging puppy eyes.

“Urgh… _fine_ \--” Manon conceded and before she could state her conditions (mainly at how teeny and tiny the wedding needed to be), she was quickly tackled so she once again lay on the bed. Dorian captured her lips and never stopped kissing her.

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for ready! Let me know your thoughts...I love to hear feedback!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! I'd love to hear your feedback...more chapters to come soon!


End file.
